


This is Love

by crazyparakiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Albus Severus Potter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Arguing, Disguise, Enemies to Lovers, HP Next Gen Fest 2020, Harry Potter Next Generation, Humor, Light Angst, Lots of Sex, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Omega Scorpius Malfoy, One Night Stands, Quidditch, Secret Children, Secret Identity, Sex, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: Most of Albus’s bad life decisions can be summed up in a word: James. When he got a shitty tattoo in the Fifth Year—done by some bloke in a dirty flat—well, that was James’s idea. When he got picked up by Aurors for doing hallucinogens—James was the one who’d convinced him to do them at a party. That time they stole the flying motorbike Dad gave to Teddy—James was the one who insisted it was a rite of passage to drive it over London at dawn. Neither Dad nor Teddy was impressed with that explanation.Now, here Albus is living another bad choice that was born of James’s influence.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 36
Kudos: 175
Collections: Next Gen Fest 2020





	This is Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdherderette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/gifts).



> For Nerd, 
> 
> The one who always encourages me to finish my nonsensical ideas. <3 
> 
> Fun was had all around while working on this, and I hope you have fun reading it too!

Most of Albus’s bad life decisions can be summed up in a word: James. When he got a shitty tattoo in the Fifth Year—done by some bloke in a dirty flat—well, that was James’s idea. When he got picked up by Aurors for doing hallucinogens—James was the one who’d convinced him to do them at a party. That time they stole the flying motorbike Dad gave to Teddy—James was the one who insisted it was a rite of passage to drive it over London at dawn. Neither Dad nor Teddy was impressed with that explanation. 

Now, here Albus is living another bad choice that was born of James’s influence. 

“I’m going to wind up in Azkaban,” he tells his brother, when James enters the locker room to check on him. After he got into a heated row with a school-age Alpha who decided to try and throw his knot around. 

“Dad would be thrilled,” James jokes, sitting beside him on the bench. “But, seriously, mate. You’ve got to remember they are here to learn to embrace their instincts and to learn to control them.” A chastising glance settles over Albus before James continues. “Al, you trying to throttle a fifteen-year-old because he called you a limp dick isn’t setting a good example of control.” 

“It’s a lesson he needed,” Albus replies with a shrug. 

“What sort of lesson is that?” James asks, but from his grin Albus knows full well that James knows what he will say. 

“It’s a lesson in learning to shut his fucking gob.” 

James shakes his head, a fond chuckle escaping him as he stands. “I think you might need retraining, darling brother.” When Albus bares his teeth, James’s grin grows. “Your lack of sex is showing, Al. Maybe you ought to find an Omega to shag.” 

Albus groans, suddenly reminded of the work memo Teddy sent round. The one that stated they’d be opening their services to Omega students and Omega trainers. “These punk Alphas are irritating enough, when they put Omegas in here it’s going to be a fucking madhouse.” 

“Teddy’s all about equality,” James responds as he has for the last few weeks while Albus has complained about the annoyance of it all. He’d be a failure of a parent, he’s certain. 

“Teddy’s all for getting his dick wet, and agreed to do whatever our darling cousin asked.” Albus trails behind his brother, he isn’t particularly fond of working. He hasn’t got much of a choice. Unfortunately, after his last bad decision—influenced by James—his dad decided they both needed to get jobs. To earn their own keep. Idle hands causing fires or some shit. 

Here they are, in this cesspool of sweat and pheromones teaching young Alphas how to control their urges. Alpha training isn’t anything new. It has long been something that’s required teaching of prepubescent and pubescent brats—because of co-ed schools, work environments, and gender equality. Alpha Academy, specifically, is new. Something Teddy dreamed up while growing up with orphans of war—people who didn’t have a close relative or mentor teach them these skills. There’s still plenty of trickle-down from the war in Albus’s life. There were enough damaged parents of Albus’s peers that he can understand why these kids need someone mentally stable to show them how to adjust to their instincts. It’s just not a job Albus would’ve chosen on his own. 

Unfortunately, this job is one he was forced into because no one else will take him. Albus is prone to violence when people wrong him, he’s gained a bit of notoriety thanks to his shenanigans. Teddy was the only one who would take him. Teddy’s also one of the only people alive who isn’t afraid to kick the daylights out of Albus, or James, if needed. 

He rolls his eyes when James asks, “Do you think Teddy will frown on us having a romp about if one of these new trainers catch our fancy?” 

“I think you need to focus on keeping the horny Alpha brats away from the new trainers and Omega students rather than worry about getting your knot into one.” 

James chuckles, “You always sound a hateful knob when you talk about Omegas.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve fucked a lot of them—the appeal has worn off.” 

“Don’t let Lily’s little Omega friends hear you say that, it would shatter their world.,” James teases as they push out of the doors that lead to the locker rooms. “You might get up in one if you don’t say anything.” 

Albus pulls a face, shrugging on a hoodie, “James, I’m not looking for anything.” 

Famous last words.

The Giggle Snitch is a club that caters to people looking to hook up. Albus isn’t really into clubs or hooking up. Especially not after the time the crimson cloaks crashed one of the clubs when James dragged him out. Dad had not been impressed with the fact Albus got caught with his trousers around his knees and his cock knotted in some tart he’d chatted up at the bar. Their first year at uni had been interesting before Albus left and James failed out. Most of the days were spent boozed up in bed with random partners. Honestly, Albus would rather be home with his Great Dane tonight, but someone has to make sure James doesn’t get caught in the loo with his cock down someone’s throat. 

The scent when the door opens is  _ heady _ . A mix of clover and rose. As is usual for Omegas, but the deeper Albus ventures into the club he is hit with an overwhelming scent of peach. Mouthwateringly ripe and ready to be devoured. 

“Shit,” he hisses, catching James by the arm as he stumbles. 

“What?” James asks, concern tinting his voice. They aren’t even close to anyone and the scent is driving Albus insane. Wobbling on his legs, Albus settles himself into a chair by the door, clutching his brother’s arm to keep himself grounded. “Al?”

“Fuck, I’m gonna pop a knot,” Albus groans. “One of them smells fucking divine.” 

“What are you, twelve?” James shakes his head, but his grin falls away when Albus digs deeper into his forearm. “Shit, you’re being serious right now?”

“Yes, you fucking twit, I wasn’t trying to be funny.” Albus scrubs his free hand over his face, wiping at the perspiration that’s gathering on his skin. Skin that feels too hot and tight over his muscles. “Shit, I can’t go over there.” By over there Albus means deeper into this cesspool of pheromones. 

“You look like a total knob, sitting over here afraid of a nice smell.” 

Albus is about to tell his brother to fuck right off, but his tongue feels too heavy to work. James shakes his head at him and squats down, saying, “Sit here, then, I’m going to find a companion.” Albus wants to throttle him. But his body is sluggish and resists obeying. 

He doesn’t move until Lily comes to fetch him. Her scent is a comfort, calming his instincts. Her scent helps pull him out of the need for the other one. Clearing his mind enough to follow her to a small table. 

Lily sits down, pulling him into a chair beside her. Grinning up at his sudden arrival are a couple of her mates. Albus thinks the one with blonde hair looks cute and wonders if he should see if she’s receptive to helping him let off some steam. Steam that’s building in him again. Due to that intoxicating smell. 

A hope that is shot down when she rambles on and on about some nonsense on InstaOwl. “I’ve followed her for ages, and I think she’s pretty interesting,” she’s saying to Lily. 

Albus’s sister scoffs in response, pulling out her own mobile, flicking across the reflective glass until she stops on the image of a pale body in a square snapshot. It’s obscene, a full, white bum with a peachy glow that’s jokingly concealed with a thin cover of rose gold lace. Beneath is a caption that says, “Are you feeling knotty? <3” Albus swallows. Lily, unmindful of him being interested in burying his face in that bum, says, “This one is my favourite to follow. He’s all about embracing sexuality for all the genders. Bucking the idea that Alphas are the only ones with desires while Omegas mewl pathetically on the sidelines. My mum is definitely not a delicate flower, nor are my aunts. So, I really love that he’s completely vocal against being shamed by Alphas who still live in that mindset that Omegas exist to satiate their needs. Plus, he’s so stupid pretty.” 

Albus ignores Lily and her dull friend after that, going back to his pint and being annoyed that he’s out here instead of at home having a wank. He’s still tense from that peach scent. 

It’s a few beers later when he needs to hit the loo, and he grunts at his sister after she tells him he’d better come back. The back of the club is quieter, the heavy base and synthesizers muted in the hall by some simple magic. Albus appreciates the calm of it, his ears need a reprieve. He’s feeling less tense until he opens the loo and that scent comes back full force. Barrelling into him like a consuming curse. Albus staggers. The peach so thick the scent is a flavour on his tongue. A taste that speaks to his Alpha brain, one that makes that part of him snarl  _ Mine _ . 

“Fuck,” he hears a voice whine. Then a moan, “God, this is intense.” 

Albus swallows, stepping into the room despite the rational part of him sounding a warning. 

“Hello,” he calls, voice slow. “Are you all right?” 

A needy gasp is the only response he receives. 

Heat scent is thick, spilling more into the small space as Albus’s own pheromones radiate out of him. A primal command to the Omega in this room, one that says  _ Come bare that throat to me.  _

“Alpha,” the voice whines. The dinged-up stall door opens. Revealing a creature Albus wants to devour. The Omega is tall. With long, white-blond hair and broad shoulders. Androgynous beauty with wide violet eyes and full pink lips that Albus wants to see wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck.” Albus murmurs, stepping into the stall when the Omega beckons him to come touch them with a curl of their long finger. 

A warm hand invades his trousers once they are a breath apart, and Albus moans as the soft fingers stroke him. “Need you,” the Omega whispers into Albus’s neck—breath cool on his too-hot skin. “Need your knot in me.” 

Albus, clear enough of mind, pulls back, holding that violet gaze as he asks, “Are you sure?” 

Clarity is in those eyes when a husky voice responds, “As sure as I’ve ever been.” 

Lily keeps ringing his mobile, but Albus ignores the summons after they’ve Apparated to his flat. His dog, Duke, had only lifted his head to see what was happening before he wisely left his master to the mate Albus brings home. 

“Someone is calling,” the Omega beneath Albus says. Eyes half-lidded, and Albus admires the dark makeup that makes the colour of their irises all the more intense. Albus half-misses the words because he’s so busy being wrapped up in this Omega. 

“Probably my annoying sister,” Albus replies, his tan fingers stroking across the soft cashmere jumper this Omega wears. “Can I take off your clothes?” 

A grin, “I thought you’d never ask.” A moment later, Albus has the shirt off revealing a beautiful flat chest, and when he works the Omega’s trousers open he finds an exquisite cock waiting impatiently for his attention. “Are you going to stop now that you’ve seen me?” The Omega asks with a note of fear in his voice. 

“I love cock,” Albus replies. “Doesn’t put me off you at all.” 

“Mmmm, good.” He arches, running his own slim fingers along his soft, pale flesh. Marking the path he wants Albus to touch as he says, “Come get what you desire, Alpha.” 

Albus takes the permission, wrapping his palm around that splendid cock—stroking with purpose. “I want to watch you come,” Albus says. Alpha command in his voice. The Omega responds beautifully. His cock twitching while Albus watches as clear liquid coats the back of his tan hand. 

“Wonderful,” Albus praises, lifting his sticky palm to his mouth to taste. “Now I want to taste that arse.” In response to his words, the Omega whimpers. 

“Please.” 

Albus loves when they beg so prettily. 

He discovers this Omega tastes as good as he smells, like a lush peach in summer. The slick of his body a sweet syrup on Albus’s eager tongue. The Omega comes twice, little orgasms Albus draws out of him with just his tongue. 

“Alpha, please,” he begs Albus, “Put your cock in me. I need it.” 

Albus raises his face from its task. Wiping at his slick wet chin, before he moves to lie on the bed beside the trembling Omega. Stroking his own cock lazily as he watches this Omega twitch from desire. “You want this cock,” Albus asks with an affected tone of boredom. 

“Yes, yes want it,” he moans, the Omega’s eyes are glassy. From overstimulation or desire, Albus isn’t sure but he knows the image makes him feel powerful. 

“Or do you  _ need _ it?” Albus asks, his own voice dropping to a low, gravelly growl. 

The pupils of the Omega’s eyes are large, so large his eyes are black and in the black of them Albus sees only himself reflected. “I need it,” the Omega whines. “Need it more than anything.” 

“Do you need it more than any other cock?” 

“Yes,” those hands are desperately trying to caress Albus but he torments this Omega by denying him a touch. 

“Is this the best cock you’ll ever have?” Albus growls, getting his free hand into the Omega’s soft hair to draw him closer, so he can leave messy kisses against a soft white neck. “The only cock that will touch your deepest, hungriest places?” 

“Deeper than anything,” the Omega breaths against the shell of his ear. 

“Ride my cock, take it deep and have it reshape your cock-hungry body—let it brand you as mine.” 

The Omega scrambles over him, dropping down onto Albus’s cock in his need. Tight, wet heat engulfs him. The Omega shudders, coming as soon as Albus is in him. So deep he can feel the Omega’s womb. That makes him twitch with primal desire. 

“Alpha,” the Omega pleads. Rocking his slim hips, causing delicious friction against the sensitive skin of Albus’s cock. 

“Will you take my knot?” Albus asks, holding tight to the Omega, stopping his greedy body from moving. “I want to knot you and pump you full of seed until you’re pregnant.” Something Albus always says because it turns him on, but never means. 

Long fingers splay across a flat white stomach while the Omega moans. “Put your baby in me, Alpha. I want it; I  _ need _ it.” 

Albus uses the balls of his feet to get leverage, thrusting up into the Omega so hard the bed creaks. He keeps at it, watching as expressions change on that bewitching face, and when he sees the Omega come—that’s when Albus knots. Filling him with come. 

*

Scorpius wakes in a panic. There’s a strong arm around his waist and hot breath at the back of his neck. 

The previous night comes barrelling into him. The club. Potter. The loo. Potter’s flat. 

_ Shit.  _

Scorpius gingerly moves from beneath Potter’s heavy arm. Careful as possible, and stops every time Potter shifts as if he’s waking. Fortunately, the man is a heavy sleeper so Scorpius escapes his hold without incident. 

The next obstacle he faces is the giant beast of a dog that lives with Potter. It’s got a glossy black and white coat along with terrifying yellow eyes. When they land on Scorpius, he feels as if he’s being judged. Unwilling to be found unworthy by an animal Scorpius starts towards the Floo, but a single deep bark halts him. “Shhh,” he commands the dog. All the massive beast does in response is cock its large head. He waits for a few minutes, studying the dog to see if it will continue being loud. After a bit, Scorpius feels confident enough to try and leave. However, the brute of an animal releases another bark. When he turns back to face the giant dog, with another reprimand on the tip of his tongue, Scorpius finds that the creature is nosing at an empty bowl. 

_ Ah _ . Feeling fairly certain Potter won’t suddenly wake, Scorpius goes to the kitchen to feed the monstrous mutt that Potter owns. He finds the food without much issue. Potter, unsurprisingly, has little in the way of human food. So the only things in the cupboard belong to Potter’s dog. It nuzzles against Scorpius’s stomach, giving a loving growl after he’s filled the bowl. He takes the opportunity to look at the name tag on the thick black collar. 

> _ Duke: Lord of Dogs  _

He smiles despite himself and pulls out his mobile. Checking his own face Scorpius is glad to note his makeup setting spray held his dramatic look through intense, sweaty sex and sleep.  _ They will be getting a note of approval _ , he thinks as he opens his camera app. Snapping a picture of himself with this Duke to share with the world. 

_ Pity that Potter is a pain,  _ Scorpius thinks as he finally leaves the flat.  _ His dog is actually kind of cool.  _

*

Albus wakes when Duke keeps whining at his bedside. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you gotta pee.” 

Albus shakes his head, trying to rid himself of that deep sleep haze that wants to keep him in bed. He blinks, his eyes feel sticky, but he’s focusing better when he suddenly remembers. Omega. Heat. Knotting. 

_ Fuck, I forgot the condom.  _

After he rolls over Albus finds that the Omega is, unsurprisingly, gone. He’s both grateful as well as disappointed with this development. His body is the kind of sore that comes from a night of intense passion, and he grins at the red scratch marks that crisscross over his abs. Albus figures the other bloke is used to these sorts of encounters and will take an emergency contraceptive—if he’s not already on a daily potion. 

Duke bumps his large head against Albus’s hip. With another grin, Albus ruffles his dog’s soft ears. “C’mon, mate, let’s take a piss.” 

The nice thing about having a magical flat in London is that despite the pavement and lack of space, Albus has a private garden. One just outside his bedroom door where he can stand in the centre of it starkers while Duke gallops about.

Albus enjoys the breeze on his skin that is still overheated from the lingering scent of that delectable creature who warmed his bed. In his ear, Albus can still hear the begging,  _ Alpha, please _ . He groans, resting the back of his head against the brick of his flat. 

Re-entering his home, Albus makes his way to the kitchen. Stopping when he notices Duke’s food bowl has already been filled and his water refreshed. A bit of fondness comes over Albus for the nameless Omega he brought home. 

Lily writes to him, later in the day while he’s having a bowl of cereal. Her message reads:  _ fucking wanker, I didn’t know you knew KnotHungry _

Albus, frowning at the message, replies:  _ Am I supposed to know what the fuck that is? _

Lily, quick as ever, shoots back:  _ that’s the InstaOwl I follow!  _

Albus shakes his head as he types back:  _ yeah, well, I still don’t know what the fuck that is?  _

A picture comes along with a reply, but Albus doesn’t read the words. He’s busy staring at the image of a beautiful human placing a kiss against his dog’s furry muzzle. Duke appears happy, tongue lolling as it often does, but it is that soft face nuzzling against Duke’s dark fur that captures Albu’s attention. 

A chime pings and he realises Lily has sent yet another message. 

_ Don’t ignore me, I want to meet him!  _ It reads. 

Albus huffs, replying:  _ good luck with that, mate, I didn’t catch his name. He just asked if he could take a picture with Duke and left. _ There is absolutely no need to tell his sister he was bollocksed deep in this  _ KnotHungry _ , pulling moans out of his obscene mouth. 

Lily seems tired of their conversation and fucks off after that last message, thankfully. Probably off to stalk that InstaOwl person. Albus opens the picture again, staring at the graceful line of that nose and thinks  _ I hope I see him again.  _

*

Scorpius hopes to all things holy that he never sees Potter again. He’s caking concealer on his neck, hoping to shit his dad doesn’t see the bruises that vampire left on his skin. Once the wig is off, his hair is short and does little to help keep the remainders of Potter’s lust hidden. 

Scorpius doesn’t make a habit of going into public with his InstaOwl persona, for a lot of reasons. Most of those being that he hates being hit on by knotheads, can’t stand people, and he doesn’t ever want to go to bed with a stranger. Potter, apparently, was the exception. Though, Scorpius is content in the belief that his sudden heat was the only reason he followed such an Alpha home. 

_ Never again.  _

The only time Scorpius leaves home with his disguise is if he’s getting paid for a public appearance. Something he tries hard to avoid, and something he resolves to quit doing now that it has led to such a regrettable action. 

_ Fucking Pansy, _ Scorpius rages silently. Miserable that she conned him into agreeing to do a paid appearance at that shoddy club she owns. 

“Scorpius.” His dad’s voice draws him out of his fuming and he jumps, a startled scream leaving his throat. His dad, of course, wears his signature expression of irritation. The one where he closes his eyes and his nostrils flare with the loss of patience. Once Draco’s calmed himself, he speaks. “Son, what are you doing?”

“I’m getting ready.” Scorpius hopes to every god he’s ever read about that his father doesn’t look too closely at his neck.  _ Too late to use a glamour _ . 

“For?” His dad speaks in a manner that suggests Scorpius has forgotten something. 

“The day?” 

Another of those long-suffering expressions his father favours. “You’re supposed to take Rigel to Alpha Academy today.” 

“That’s tomorrow,” Scorpius swears. He reaches for his mobile, preparing to check his calendar. 

“No, it’s today, I already checked the calendar,” Dad glances at his expensive pocket watch. “And the class started an hour ago.” 

“Shit.” 

*

_ Shit indeed, _ Scorpius thinks when he gets Rigel to the Academy and finds that James Potter is one of Rigel’s teachers. Even worse, Albus Potter wanders into the room as the second instructor for the class. 

Albus’s eyes land on Scorpius— intense green—and his pulse spikes as he recalls the previous night. When Albus sniffs the air Scorpius has a moment of panic, wondering if his scent blocking soap isn’t working right. 

“Malfoy,” James greets him with surprise in his voice. Drawing Scorpius out of his impending panic. “You know this is an Alpha class, right?” 

Offended at the implication of his stupidity, Scorpius snaps, “I’m aware. I’m not here for the class.” He gestures to where Rigel is clinging to his thin jumper. “He’s the one who is signed up.” 

“How old are you, mate?” James asks, squatting down to be more level with Rigel. 

“Eight,” Rigel answers in his usual shy manner. 

“Fine age.” James, Scorpius finds, is still just as charming as he was during school. “Now, why don’t you let go of your mum and come with me.” Scorpius nods encouragingly when Rigel looks up at him in askance. “C’mon, we’ll have fun. Plenty of other Alphas your age, too,” James reassures the child until Rigel feels brave enough to follow him. 

Scorpius watches them go with a soft smile on his face. 

A smile that slides right off when Albus approaches. “So, that’s the baby you had right out of school?” He tenses at the question, and Albus—the wanker—grins. “Don’t be like that, Malfoy; the whole school remembers how cock hungry you were. Rumour was you rode every knot in school.” 

Sharp smile in place, Scorpius snaps at him, “Didn’t ride yours, did I?” 

The twit has the gall to chuckle, low and deep, “I’m not interested in things that are  _ too _ easy.” 

Swallowing, Scorpius gathers his nerves before he hisses, “You don’t know a fucking thing about me.”

“What’s to know?” Albus sneers back, as infuriating as he was during school. “You went slagging about, got up the spout, and had a kid with an Alpha who didn’t bother hanging around.” 

“You fucking twa-” A strong arm wraps around Scorpius’ middle and a large hand clamps over his mouth. 

“Now, now.” Teddy’s low voice ghosts his ear with a note of reprimand. ”This isn’t the time or the place, children.”

Albus huffs, gearing up to respond in true dramatic Potter fashion when Teddy’s tone drops an octave in a clear warning. “You’re supposed to be assisting James, Al.” Albus’s irritated eyes slide over Scorpius, and another huff leaves him before he turns. Stomping away like a brat. 

Teddy releases Scorpius, giving him a disappointed sort of expression. “Must you always fight every Alpha you meet?” 

“If they weren’t all knotheads, I might get along with them,” Scorpius counters with a pissy expression. 

A soft laugh comes from Teddy’s kind mouth. “Am I also a knothead?” 

“Of course not,” Scorpius shuffles. Kicking his trainers against the ghastly industrial carpets. “I just...I don’t like people assuming they know me.” 

“Understandable,” Teddy agrees. Then, after a silence, asks, “Are you still considering my offer?” 

“Can you promise I won’t have to work with Potters?” 

Teddy’s smile is gentle, “You know I can’t.”

Scorpius sighs, “Are you still having trouble finding trainers?” 

Worrying his lip, Teddy nods, “Not too many Omegas are comfortable working around Alphas who are learning control. Even with all the precautions we’ve promised.” 

“Can you blame them?” Scorpius counters with a huff. 

“No, I can’t.” There’s the kicked puppy expression Scorpius cannot deny. He sighs, and against his better judgement, agrees. 

*

Albus has a sour taste in his mouth after his interaction with Malfoy. Something about that wanker always makes Albus want to puff up and throw his knot around. It’s unnerving. Getting into his skin in ways that make him itch with some unnamed need. 

“Down, Al,” James murmurs when he moves from the new group of young Alphas to stand by Albus. “You look like you’re ready to rip off someone’s head. These are the littles today, not the teens, so bring down the murder face.” 

“Fuck off,” he hisses in reply. 

He’d say more but the new kid—Malfoy’s kid—comes up to Albus and stares at him with curious grey eyes. “Do you know my mum?”

“I do,” is the safest answer Albus can muster. 

“Are you friends?” A question that is asked with such hope that Albus doesn’t want to admit he hates that tosser Malfoy. 

“Sort of,” is what he settles for. 

“Are you also friends with my dad?” That question makes him feel like a shit for tormenting Malfoy earlier and for calling him a slag. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Albus sheepishly replies, “Can’t say I am, mate.” When the little Malfoy deflates, Albus’s self-loathing increases. “But, hey, if you knew your dad, you wouldn’t get to be here and be friends with me and Jamie, would you?” The least Albus can do is try and make this brat feel special. 

“I s’pose not.” Malfoy’s kid murmurs, kicking his foot against the cheap carpet. 

“Well, as new friends, I suppose we should properly introduce ourselves.” Albus gives a ridiculous bow, earning a reluctant grin from the kid, “I’m Albus Potter. People call me Al.” 

“I’m Rigel,” Rigel responds with his own silly bow. “People call me Rigel.” 

“Fine name, mate.” 

“You too, Al.” That pulls a genuine smile across Albus’s mouth. 

“Now then, let’s join the others and learn some things, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Rigel gives an enthusiastic shout. When Albus follows behind him, he catches a faint, familiar scent of peach. 

*

“I didn’t know you were good with kids,” James comments while they are in the locker room, having finished their showers. They fought with teens in the second part of their workday, and that had been a sweaty, stinky pheromone-filled afternoon that Albus is glad to wash the fuck off. 

“I’m not,” Albus promises. Pulling on a thin white shirt, he continues, “But when they are well-behaved, they aren’t intolerable.” 

“Also helps when they have a fit as fuck mum, yeah?” James snorts while pulling on his hoodie before he grabs his duffle. 

“Are you talking about Malfoy?” Albus asks in surprise.

James grins, “Who else, mate?” Then, as he starts out of the building he declares,“Malfoy got pretty.”

“He’s a fucking knob,” Albus growls in response. “As annoying as he’s always been.” 

“I think his eccentricities could be overlooked if he were arse up and panting,” James counters, whistling at the thought. 

“Gross.” Albus exaggerates gagging. 

“Says the gross one who popped a knot from a smell at the pub the other night,” James teases. Albus instantly regrets letting his brother see his weaknesses. 

“You deserve a wanker like Malfoy, you know that?” Albus throws at James, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his loose joggers. 

“Awww, Al, don’t be jealous if I get him into bed before you.” 

“You fucking wish,” Albus mutters. 

*

When Albus gets home, he opens his phone to see if  _ KnotHungry _ has updated his InstaOwl. Nothing since the photo with Duke, unfortunately. As Albus scrolls through  _ KnotHungry _ ’s feed, he finds himself missing that lush arse with its sweet taste and smell. 

He summons a beer from the fridge, popping it open while Duke rests his heavy head on Albus’s knee. “I never thought I’d want to fuck someone more than once,” Albus murmurs as he scratches beneath Duke’s drooly chin. 

*

Scorpius usually loves listening to Rigel yammer on about nothing. He doesn't love listening to him wax poetic about Albus Fucking Potter. All evening long it’s been Potter this, Potter that. Like the bastard hung the moon and all the stars. 

“Rigel, love.” Scorpius begins, interrupting Rigel. He was in the middle of telling Scorpius about how he wants to grow up to be as muscular as Albus. Which, to be fair, is a body to aspire to build—because Albus is fit as fuck. “Rigel, Mum needs you to calm down on this Potter talk, yeah?” 

Rigel frowns in confusion, “Why?” 

“Because Potter isn’t a fun memory for Mum, okay?” 

“Why isn’t he?” Rigel’s scrunched face would be endearing if Scorpius wasn’t annoyed about being asked  _ why. _

_ Because he’s a fucking tosser.  _ “He wasn’t the nicest during school.” Not a lie, but not the entire truth either. 

“School was a hundred years ago for you.” Rigel is a cheeky brat. “Shouldn’t you be over that by now?” 

Scorpius, irritated beyond belief, mutters, “You’re eight years old and still afraid of the dark shouldn’t you be over  _ that _ .” 

Sometimes Scorpius forgets that he’s supposed to the adult in their interactions. Something he should have remembered before this moment because now Rigel is watching him with hurt betrayal. “I hate you, Mum.” His whisper is heart-shattering, but he’s gone from the room before Scorpius can try to take back his words. 

His head thumps on the coffee table, and he groans against the ancient wood of it. “Fuck,” he murmurs to himself. “That twat Potter has to ruin everything.” 

*

A statement that will follow Scorpius like a black cloud in the next couple of weeks. Potter is a stench he can’t escape. One that sneaks up on him and makes his knees tremble. Scorpius’s second week at Alpha Academy begins with Potter’s scent. It invades him. Filling his lungs in a manner that conjures memories of Potter’s knot sealing them together—making them one. Scorpius’s mouth waters, parched for that flavour on his tongue. When Potter gets closer, he shivers. His thick, masculine scent calls to a primal side of Scorpius. He’s not sure why, either, there’s nothing special about Potter’s scent. He smells like every other Quidditch obsessed fool Scorpius has known. Yet, there is something in that mingling of earth, musk, leather, and broom oil. Something that makes Scorpius want to go to his knees and present himself like a bitch to be mounted. 

He loathes this feeling. 

“God, can’t you shower,” he hisses when Potter stops beside him. 

An irritated frown tilts down the corners of Potter’s lush mouth. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

_ You smell like mine.  _ “Nothing,” Scorpius replies. Irritable, and itchy in his skin. “You just stink.” 

“Fuck you,” Potter sneers, pressing closer with his large body. Causing Scorpius to yelp. Thankfully, James is the one who stops Albus from touching him. Scorpius might’ve come from the contact. 

“Al, leave it,” James commands in a low tone while gripping his brother by the shoulders. “He’s probably in pre-heat. You know Omegas are sensitive to smells around that time.”

Albus appears as if he’s swallowed a particularly sour lemon when he responds, “The last person I want getting wet from my scent is Malfoy.” 

Scorpius feels warm in the cheeks and neck from their proximity. He wants to bare his neck—beg for Albus’s teeth to tear into the tender flesh. The desire makes him want to wretch. “You couldn’t make me wet if you tried,” Scorpius sneers in response. 

James, the flirty git, winks at him while ignoring Albus’s snarl. “What about me? Could I get you wet?” 

Taking him by surprise, Scorpius sputters, blushing so hard his face feels hot. 

“Who’d want a go at this one?” Albus snaps at his brother. Drawing Scorpius out of his moment of embarrassment. “It’s not fun when they’re too easy.” Scorpius’s stomach twists in a combination of rage and hurt at those words, but he does his best not to show them. 

*

That night, at home, he puts on his good wig and cakes on his makeup. Determined to go out and look for fun.  _ I fucked Potter, might as well fuck anyone. _ Or so his mantra goes when he leaves the manor. The night before, his parents and Rigel left for a two week holiday at the dragon reserve in Romania. A fortunate happenstance that means Scorpius won’t have to explain away his absence. His father is the overprotective sort. 

Though, he wishes someone were home to stop him. Especially when he decides to check one of his favourite takeaway shops near the Quidditch pitches hidden in Hyde Park. As soon as he’s got his curry Potter’s scent hits him. Overwhelming and full of intention. Scorpius turns, his hands going to jelly as he catches sight of a gleaming, bare chest and a broom slung over the back of strong shoulders. Scorpius’s curry is ruined in the grass, but he doesn’t care when Potter’s smile grows predatory. 

“You,” he growls, but it’s different from the growls Albus makes at work. Those are angry, hateful. This growl is  _ hungry. _

A cock of his head is the silent command Albus gives and Scorpius follows like a well-trained bitch. 

*

“Fuck, I missed this smell,” Albus groans into the side of Scorpius’s neck as they enter the flat. His beast of a dog, the one Scorpius previously ignored in favour of Albus’s bare chest, barks at them once they all get inside. “Yeah, yeah,” Albus groans, reluctantly letting his hand fall from where it was toying with Scorpius’s hip. “C’mere, you,” he says to the dog—Duke, if Scorpius remembers correctly. “Lemme get that harness off, then you can fuck off to the garden while I fuck off to bed with this one.” Scorpius’s stomach swoops as those green eyes turn back to gaze at him. Neither of them watches while the giant black and white dog runs through the backdoor—his boom of a bark frightening off some gnomes. 

“C’mere,” Albus commands with a low voice. “And take off those trousers.” 

Scorpius does, enjoying the way Albus’s nostrils flare—an obvious lack of control—when his tight trousers are kicked aside. “Now what?” 

“Come closer,” Albus has a careful measure to his tone as if he’s trying to stave off his excitement. Scorpius wants to shatter that tether to his control. He wants to see Albus in a raw, primal state. So he moves closer, but when he’s near touching Scorpius turns. Bending a bit and reaches behind himself to part the cheeks of his arse. Exposing his own want to Albus’s wide eyes. The hot air that pushes out Albus is cool against Scorpius’s overheated hole. The slick of it he can feel sliding down his crack in hot gushes; wetting the skin down to his bollock and even dripping down his thighs. 

“Shit,” Albus groans, “It looks like honey.” 

“Taste it, Alpha,” Scorpius commands. His voice pitched low, husky, and full of need. “Tell me if it’s just as sweet.” 

Albus devours him. Pressing his handsome face between the cheeks Scorpius holds open for him, and he sucks at the slick of Scorpius’s body as if he’s starved for the taste. His five o’clock shadow catches over Scorpius’s sensitive skin, causing Scorpius to groan. 

“You taste like mine,” Albus murmurs against Scorpius’s soft, yielding hole. “Fuck, I didn’t know Omegas could be so fucking sweet.”’ 

“Am I the best you’ve ever tasted?” There’s a part of Scorpius that wants the vindication of being the best Albus has ever known. 

“Better than the best,” Albus admits, before shoving his tongue deeper into Scorpius. “You’re addicting.” 

“Knot me,” Scorpius says with his bossiest tone. Tired of foreplay. He’s been ready for that knot since he last rode it. 

“Gladly,” Albus stands suddenly. His strong, tan hands work his trousers open before one of them grips Scorpius by the hip. Then, slowly, he guides himself into Scorpius. Sighing out in unison with Scorpius’s whine for more. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

“You’re so big.” 

“Biggest you’ve ever had?” That stupid Alpha mentality would normally make Scorpius scoff and ignore the knothead spewing such nonsense. Yet, Albus is proving to be the exception. 

“Biggest, thickest, best,” he hisses, grinding against Albus’s cock. 

“And it’s all yours.” Albus whispers while biting and licking at the shell of Scorpius’s sensitive ear. 

Scorpius doesn’t believe that for a second, but when Albus knots him and pumps him full of hot come he can’t find it in him to care. 

*

Albus wakes to an empty bed, but he’s too sated to be sad about the lack of warmth beside him. He’d been playing Quidditch with James and their mates when he’d smelt that sweet peach scent. Then he’d tagged out, telling James, “Good luck, mate, I’m off to get my dick wet.” Because Albus  _ knew _ he wasn’t going home without that Omega. 

Malfoy’d pissed him right the fuck off during their past few interactions, and it seemed kismet when his preferred method of release called to him in the form of that peachy smell. 

He grins, remembering the last few hours of his life. He fell asleep after knotting a third time, the Omega riding him fell asleep too and they’d rested curled together. Duke had come back inside at some point and climbed in the bed beside them, but both were too tired to care. All Albus had the energy to do was to grab a blanket and toss it over them. 

Now he’s awake, admiring the love bites on his abs as well as the vicious one near his left nipple. 

_ Damned, should’ve got his name this time. _

*

He’s feeling particularly springy. Until he gets to work and Malfoy is already having words with Teddy. 

“You promised you’d be on shift when I worked,” Scorpius’s words are punctuated by a shrill tone. It grates on Albus’s nerves, stealing some of the joy he had just moments before. 

Teddy, calm as can be, replies, “Scorpius, you know I can’t miss this appointment.” 

“But I don’t want to be left in the care of two Potters on my first-day teaching,” he gripes back. 

“I know James is flirty and Albus is prickly but they are both good Alphas. I wouldn’t leave this to them if I could not trust them to behave.” 

“Just looking at them annoys me,” Scorpius mutters. 

Albus, frowning, says, “Well, you’re no prize broom yourself, Malfoy.” 

“Children,” Teddy raises his voice to be heard over their egos, holding up hands at both of them when it seems Scorpius is going to go off in a snit. 

“Just don’t stare,” Scorpius hisses at Albus before he shoulders past him. 

“Who would want to?” Albus growls to himself. 

Apparently, Albus will want to—or so he discovers when Scorpius comes in with black spandex tights that hug a full, bouncy arse. The kind of arse Albus loves to bury his face in. 

_ Fuck.  _

The situation doesn’t get much better when one of the Omega students asks, “Erm, how can I take the knotting toy deeper? Without major discomfort?” 

_ Jesus,  _ Albus thinks,  _ I’d like to die.  _

A thought that intensifies when Scorpius crouches to the floor, splayed on elbows and knees. Spreading his legs while he speaks with the calmest, most professional tone. “You’ll want a toy that can magically adhere to anything. I prefer the knotting toys they sell at Omega Paradise, you don’t have to go to the shop to get them. They do have Owl order, however, I recommend getting a feel for them. They have clean displays, the shop workers are professional and aren’t going to shame you in any manner.” He summons a decent-sized knotting cock that’s made of a pinky skin-toned silicone. A simple  _ stay put _ makes the cock hold itself to the carpet. Malfoy clutches the obscene toy with his long, pretty fingers. “Now, you want to make sure you guide the dildo inside your body if you aren’t used to riding a cock—fake or otherwise.” Scorpius gestures with his free hand at his long, bendy form. “In this position, you can take the cock deeper. If you can hit your womb you will come faster, and it can help stave off the itchy feel of heat.” Scorpius grinds back against the toy, showing the rapt students exactly how they should move their bodies. The damned fake cock is there against Scorpius’s spandex-covered arse and Albus has seen enough naked bodies, has fucked enough arses, to easily visualise Malfoy’s hole stretched around that dildo. All the while Malfoy talks on and on about toys that can grow longer if needed or shrink if needed, and how to make the toys knot on command. 

Albus stares, his mind playing through obscene fantasies while watching the way Scorpius’s bum shifts beneath his too-tight spandex. 

_ Fuck _ . 

*

“I can’t do this anymore,” Albus tells James after he’s had a shower one evening. “Having Malfoy rubbing his arse all over a fucking dildo all week long has been torture.” 

“Ready to admit he’s pretty?” James asks with a knowing smirk. 

“Fuck. No.” Albus would rather cut out his tongue than admit he thinks Scorpius is bang tidy. 

“I’m going to ask him out on a date then,” James replies as a challenge. 

Albus shrugs stiff shoulders. “Go ahead, then.” 

James gives him a wink, jogging towards Malfoy when Scorpius comes out of one of the Omega classrooms. “Oi, Pious, can I have a moment?” 

Albus sees Scorpius’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead at the familiarity. However, Scorpius doesn’t reprimand James for his chummy ways. Instead, he waits patiently with an intrigued expression as James asks him if he’d like to go to dinner. 

“I’ve promised Rigel we’d catch a film since he’s been away with my parents.” Albus notices that response isn’t a  _ no.  _ Albus’s knob of a brother also picks up on that fact. 

“Does he like pizza?” James isn’t deterred by a brat, and Albus isn’t quite sure if he finds that quality admirable or repulsive. If it were anyone other than James, Albus would think them noble. However, he knows his brother is only catering to the idea of including Rigel for that prized romp around the mattress. Wanker. 

_ What kid doesn’t?  _ Albus snorts to himself as he crosses his arms and frowns at where Malfoy stands, hesitating to put James off. 

“He loves pizza; he’s a kid,” Scorpius replies to James with a short laugh. One that causes a strange tingling sensation to tickle the back of Albus’s neck. 

“Would you both like to join me for pizza?” James has always been smooth. He’s got a knack for drawing people in and having them eat out of his palm for nothing. 

“I’ll see what he says, but I’m sure he’d like that,” Scorpius tells James. If he weren’t, well,  _ Malfoy  _ Albus would give Scorpius a warning about his brother’s nefarious ways. 

James struts back over to where Albus stands by their lockers. With a smug expression and a tone low enough for only Albus to hear, he whispers, “Fifty quid says I’m  _ Daddy  _ by New Years.” 

“You’re a shit, you know that?” Albus hisses back with his own quiet voice. 

“I think it’s been said once before,” James laughs. Whistling a merry tune while they make their way to the front of the building. Albus lingers back, frowning when he notices Scorpius watching his brother while wearing a considering expression.

*

Scorpius shifts nervously a few evenings later. His stomach has been squirming the past few nights, but he writes it off as nerves. Rigel grabbing his hand draws Scorpius out of a sudden queasy spell, and he smiles, relieved at the excitement he sees in the boy’s sweet face. 

“Mum, why is he taking us for pizza?” 

The queasy feeling is back. “Because he likes us and wants to be friends.” 

“Friends like Gran and Granddad? Or friends like me and my mates at school?” Rigel is quick and almost dry with his reply. 

Dad always says the Black family bred them intelligent. Rigel is proving that point. “Time will tell,” Scorpius evades. 

“Al is more fun than this one,” Rigel pouts, but can’t say more because James arrives. 

*

James is kind. However, his kindness is shallow—belonging to all in equal measures. Unlike the surly brother, Albus, whose kindness is deep, but only for the few he enjoys. Even Scorpius can admit there’s kindness in Albus because he’s seen it at the Academy. He has watched Albus be kind to Rigel and a couple of others. He feels swayed by Albus and hates that feeling. His mind, Scorpius feels, is muddled due to incredible sex. 

Scorpius needs to find that same fun with someone else.

James, later that evening, is who he decides to use. Scorpius hopes to recreate that feeling Albus showed him on a few occasions. 

Rigel is tired and in need of bed, so Scorpius asks to make a quick stop at the manor before he follows James home. To a flat that’s far more flashy than the one Albus keeps. Yet another comparison Scorpius wills from his mind as he follows James into the sitting room. 

He’s promptly pressed against a wall, James invading him with a masculine scent that arouses Scorpius. He tries not to think of how similar James’s scent is to Albus’s. 

“C’mon,” James murmurs against Scorpius’s ear. “I’ve been waiting weeks for this.” 

“Have you?” He counters. Managing not to roll his eyes at that confession, Scorpius remains unaffected. 

“Maybe years,” James admits with a low chuckle. “There was always an intriguing rumour that you gave the best head in all of Hogwarts.” 

That takes more of the shine out of him, but Scorpius pushes through his ill feelings—hoping he can use James to wash Albus from his skin. “Guess we will have to see if it’s true,” Scorpius murmurs. However, a strong hand stops Scorpius from falling to his knees. 

“Later; right now, I want to fuck that arse.” 

*

Albus doesn’t ask James about his date with Malfoy. He steadily avoids the topic. As does James—smirking like a cunt when he catches Albus’s glances. Scorpius appears entirely blasé about the matter as well, and Albus doesn’t want to admit that it’s bugging him. 

When the weekend comes— _ finally _ —he still hasn’t heard anything about Malfoy and James’s date. All Rigel said was that James had bad taste in pizza, and that had been the end of Rigel’s interest in discussing Albus’s older brother. 

Now he’s at Mum and Dad’s place, waiting for Sunday dinner to be done. Mum and Dad both keep dropping hints about wanting grandchildren. Something his parents keep hinting at the older their children get. Albus steadily ignores them by fucking around on his mobile...growing disappointed  _ KnotHungry  _ hasn’t posted more shots of his pale arse in lacy red knickers.

Lily, however, decides to do what she does best—she throws James into the fire by telling their parents, “If Jamie has his way, he’ll have you a grandchild by Christmas.” 

Mum and Dad both turn their attention to James. Before James can muster up a reply, their darling sister adds, “He’s been on a date with Scorpius Malfoy this week, and even brought Scorpius’s child along.” 

That makes their expressions turn concerned. “Malfoy?” Dad asks with a tone that bleeds confusion. “Didn’t you dislike Scorpius in school?” 

“I never disliked him,” James evades. He shoots a scowl at Lily who sits next to Albus wearing a smug expression. 

“You never said anything kind about him,” Dad points out in a stern voice. One that reeks of disappointment more than rage.“Scorpius’s child doesn’t need you playing around with his mum if you aren’t serious.” 

Lily, ever tactful and unmindful of Dad trying to end the discussion, asks. “So, Jamie did you get that blowjob that you bragged about finally getting a chance at?” 

Mum shrieks in disapproval. Dad doesn’t get a chance to calm the situation, because James snarks back. “I sure fucking did, Lils, and now when you convince him to suck on your knot you can remember your big brother got there first.” Then, with an obscene tone, he hisses, “His mouth is even better than the stories said.” Albus keeps staring down at his mobile, figuring that’s the safest course of action. 

Dad slams his hand on the table, startling a yelp out of James and a wince out of Lily. “Put your knots away, the both of you. I don’t know who taught you to be vile little wankers, but I’m putting a stop to it— _ now _ .”

“Sorry,” they both murmur with contrite faces. 

Albus is grateful he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut. 

*

There’s a thought that plagues him all through work in the following week—did Scorpius sleep with James? For some reason, the idea annoys Albus. Malfoy and his wanker of a brother having a romp around a mattress. The image haunts his waking dreams. Albus frowns, rolling his shoulders as he wills a tension headache away. Everyone has gone for the day, but Albus can’t be arsed to move. He’s exhausted with irritation. His cock is half-hard, and he wishes he could ring up  _ KnotHungry  _ to come and help him relieve the pent up energy. 

That cocktease’s photos have been wreaking havoc on Albus’s libido. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

“Anyone still here?” Scorpius’s voice echoes through the locker room. Albus groans— _ of course.  _

“Just me,” Albus replies.

“Great.” The word is spoken with such a sarcastic tone that Albus snaps. 

“You—” he begins, as he rounds the row of lockers into the area where they have the showers. The words drop away from Albus’s mouth when he catches sight of Malfoy half-disrobed. Albus has to swallow the flood of want that coats his tongue. 

“See something you like, Potter?” Scorpius mouths off, drawing Albus out of his lusty shock. 

With a frown he says. “No,” while his mind screams  _ yes, I like all of it.  _ Then, to try and hurt Scorpius’s pride, Albus hisses, “Did you enjoy choking on my brother’s dick?” 

Scorpius faces Albus, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. A clear taunt that Albus’s cock takes as an invitation. “Would you rather I choke on yours?” 

He doesn’t know which of them starts it, all Albus knows is that they are touching. 

“In me,” Scorpius gasps, and something about his pale skin makes Albus scramble to comply. He wants to touch Scorpius, taste him, and it’s terrifyingly overwhelming. The empty locker room is convenient, but somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, Albus knows this is a dangerous game they are playing. Something he doesn’t concentrate on too hard when he shoves Malfoy beneath the warm spray of a showerhead. Scorpius’s skin glistens, his pale, nearly colourless nipples pebble, and Albus wants to bite them. Wants to leave marks all over this landscape James got to claim first. Which he does as he moves between Scorpius’s trembling thighs. Albus’s teeth tease one of Scorpius’s pale nipples, his tongue soothing the hardened nub. An act that causes Scorpius to whine. 

“Hurry, Potter,” Scorpius pants against Albus’s neck. Albus complies, lifting Scorpius’s weight easily, spreading his pale arsecheeks with strong hands. Albus grinds against Scorpius’s crack until his cockhead presses into that welcoming, slick hole. Finding no resistance as Scorpius’s body welcomes the length of his hard cock. Sucking him into that heat with a pleasure Albus feels throughout his entire body. “Fuck me like you mean it,” Scorpius hisses, teeth catching over Albus’s ear. Causing Albus to shiver from all the stimulation. 

Albus is feral with his thrusting, moving with primal instinct more than anything else. He closes his eyes, imagining the warm body that haunts his dreams. Fortunately, Malfoy is as addictive as the old stories claim. He’s almost as good as  _ KnotHungry _ . Smells similar, but not quite the same, Albus finds. Peach of Scorpius mingles with a strong undercurrent of lemon oil and leather. It’s not unpleasant Albus finds, and he breathes the scent deep when he knots. 

Coming into that pliant body with a force that makes his vision white out. 

*

Scorpius puts his clothes back on with stiff, clinical movements. Albus’s eyes are boring into his back, following each of his movements, but Scorpius does his best to remain calm. He’s thinking of what to say when Albus speaks. 

“We can’t do this again. I don’t know what came over me, but I’m...I’m not looking for anything with you.” 

A snort leaves Scorpius, and he turns. “No worries, Potter. I’m a slag, remember?” 

After that’s said he leaves, swallowing down the hurt in his throat. All the while wondering when they are going to admit that they enjoy fucking one another. 

*

Malfoy avoids Albus like a plague. He’s only on shift when Albus isn’t, and he wonders how Scorpius could be so blasé about James but can’t be arsed to still interact with Albus. Maybe James is a better fuck than Albus is—a thought that stings Albus’s pride. 

One week, two, three, and so on until a month and a half has gone by. Scorpius’s treatment remains the same. Irritating Albus in ways he cannot place. 

Worse yet,  _ KnotHungry  _ isn’t posting. As if he too has ghosted Albus. His Alpha pride is raging with a need to prove his worth. To be found lacking by two Omegas, in such a short amount of time, is unheard of for a Potter. Especially Albus Potter. 

Saturday sees Albus at the pitch with James and their mates. Quidditch, even on a nippy fall day, doesn’t do much to make him less agitated. 

Albus cuts out early. Head not in the game enough to find Quidditch enjoyable which is a rarity for him—practically unheard of. Done with the charade of happiness Albus dismounts from his broom, before he whistles for Duke. 

“Time to go home, mate.” He tells the massive dog when he gallops over happily, his tongue hangs out the side of his wide mouth and the image Duke makes helps ease some of the disquiet in Albus. 

They make a detour to the Indian place they both love, for takeaway, but the joy that comes from food leaves Albus when he spots who is waiting for him at the entrance of his flat. 

Scorpius appears tired. There are bags beneath his eyes and his skin has a sallow tone to it along with a waxen sheen. When he sees Albus there’s a moment of despair that moves, fleetingly, through his violet-grey eyes. A moment that is gone in the span of a blink, smoothed into a frail poker face. 

“What brings you here, then?” Albus asks; opening the flat, allowing Duke to bound inside ahead of them. Duke is blissfully unaware that something is clearly wrong. 

Scorpius doesn’t answer Albus’s question. He glances around the flat—frowning in a manner that Albus doesn’t enjoy. One that says he finds Albus lacking in some fashion. “Do you always eat cheap takeaway?” Scorpius’s question seems to prove Albus right. 

“Yeah, got a problem with that?” Albus isn’t fond of having his shoddy one-offs judging his life choices. 

“Have you ever done anything resembling responsible?” The way Scorpius shouts the question takes Albus aback. There’s a fragile, cracking lilt to Scorpius’s tone. 

“I’m plenty fucking responsible, all right,” Albus booms at him. “What’s it fucking matter to you, anyway?” 

“Forget it,” Scorpius whispers, turning in a frustrated manner. “I shouldn’t have come here. This was a mistake.” 

“Now wait a fuck-” Albus drops off when something small and square falls from Scorpius’s pocket. There’s a flash of fear that crosses Scorpius’s face, and he goes to catch the parchment. However, Albus is faster. He easily snatches the paper first. “What’s this?” he taunts. Then, when Scorpius grows ashen from nerves, Albus glances at it. 

Which is a mistake. Because there, in black and greys, is a moving  _ thing  _ that resembles a small peanut. However, he’s seen enough of them passed around at family gatherings—has heard all the coos—to know exactly what this image represents. 

His sharp gaze lands on Scorpius, “Is _ this _ why you’ve come?” 

All Scorpius seems capable of managing is a minute nod. 

“You think it’s  _ mine _ ?” Albus demands with an almost shrill edge to his voice. 

“Who else could it belong to?” Scorpius counters with his own shout. 

“Any of the wankers you’ve put your arse up for, for starters.” Then with a dangerous rumble, he bites, “Fuck, this kid could be  _ my brother’s _ .” 

“It was a date, Potter, not an invitation to get me pregnant,” Scorpius snarks. “Besides, your brother seems smart enough to remember a condom.” 

“Yeah, well, James has got me in enough shit. I’ve taken enough of his mistakes as my own, but I won’t claim this one.” Albus tells Scorpius with a glare. 

“For fuck’s sake, it can’t be James’s,” Scorpius hisses. He wraps his slim arms around himself as if shielding himself from Albus. Which further ignites Albus’s fury. 

“You don’t know that,” Albus argues back.

“I do because I know I didn’t fuck  _ him _ ,” Scorpius screams.

“But he said you did,” Albus hisses. Scorpius, seemingly tired of this game, snatches the print of his scan out of Albus’s hand. 

“You know what, Potter?” Scorpius growls. “Have it your way. I’ll go tell the real daddy and let you off the hook.” He stomps to the entrance and over his shoulder throws a last parting shot. “You’d be the worst father for a child.” With that said, Scorpius Disapparates, and Albus is left there fuming. 

*

Scorpius chews at his lower lip, wondering how to begin.  _ Knocking on the door would be a start _ , he thinks to himself, but the idea of what comes after cripples him with anxiety. He thinks about turning, putting this off, but the door of his father’s office opens and his chance to escape flees. 

“Scorpius,” his dad begins, surprise in his tone. “Did you need something?” 

He crumples into his dad, clinging to his expensive suit as he sobs, “Daddy, I’ve messed up.” 

  
  


*

Albus throws James against the corridor wall, knocking Mum’s framed pictures to the wood floors. “You,” he hisses. Ignoring the way Mum shouts for Dad to come in from the garden and break up their row. “Did you fuck him?” 

“Who?” James, ever cocky, replies, “You’ll have to be more specific, mate.” James seems amused rather than afraid of Albus's ire.

“Malfoy,” Albus snarls right into his face. “Did you fuck Malfoy?” 

“Said I did, didn’t I?” James doesn’t waver, and Albus slams him against the wall once more. “What’s it fucking matter to you, Al?” 

Dad comes in, right as Albus shouts, “He’s up the fucking spout! Came round at mine and told me I’m the father, but you fucked him a few days before I did, didn’t you?” 

Mum, sounding heartbroken, whispers, “What?” 

James’s face drains of colour, making his freckles stand out, as he says, “What?” 

“I’m not going to play daddy to your fuck up, James. If you fucked Malfoy full of a brat I won’t say it’s mine.” Although, there’s a strange part of him that wishes Malfoy’s unborn child was his. Which is simply ridiculous.

James shakes his head, swallowing before he speaks. “Did you fuck him, Al?” 

Albus shifts around, “Yeah.” He feels guilty for some reason. Dad’s obvious displeasure with them isn’t helping that particular feeling. Albus ignores his parents, not wanting to lose his nerve as he says to his brother.“Look, I’m willing to do a test to see if it’s mine, but if you fucked him you’d better also be willing.” 

“I didn’t,” James says, and the way James is watching Albus makes him believe that confession. James's expression is confused, upset, and there’s a hint of humiliation in his tone when he next admits. “Malfoy wouldn’t let me fuck him. I tried and he told me:  _ sorry, you can tell people what you want, but I don’t go to bed with just anyone. _ ” 

*

Albus is feeling numb, exhausted from screaming. It seems like they’d been at it for hours, him, his dad, his mum, James, and Lily when she finally arrived. Mum had slapped Albus across the cheek at the end, finishing the row for them when she’d whispered, “I’m disappointed in you.” That hurt more than the slap, to be honest. 

He’s disappointed in himself. Albus didn’t react with tact, as he probably should have with both his brother and his possible baby's mother. However, when Scorpius showed up with the scan of the  _ baby _ Albus had been filled with immediate elation followed by rage at who might have planted the seed before him. Scorpius slags about; even if he hadn’t fucked James, there’ve been others, Albus is sure, and there’s still a chance this child isn’t his. 

There’s a spliff between Albus’s lips, and he’s taking a drag of it when a long shadow falls over where he’s sitting. “Hello, Potter,” Mr Malfoy greets with a steely tone and gaze. “I see you’re every bit as charming as I imagined.” 

“Erm,” Albus says with eloquence. 

“Where’s your father?” Mr Malfoy is rather dismissive of him. Unsurprisingly, seeing as how he's in an immaculate three-piece while Albus is in ratty trainers, jeans with grass stains and holes in the knees, and his once pristine white shirt has his and James's blood dirtying it. The difference between them would be humorous if Albus wasn't scared shitless about the possibility of Mr Malfoy hexing his bollocks off. 

“Malfoy,” Dad greets from the doorway behind Albus. Startling him again, causing Albus to choke on pungent smoke. “Come inside, let’s have a drink and a chat.” Albus can tell the words are not a request as they are directed down at where Albus is sitting.

Inside, Mr Malfoy takes a seat at the table while thanking Mum for the whiskey she pours him. “You’ll need it, I imagine,” Mum says with a weary sort of smile. 

“Might as well bring the bottle,” Mr Malfoy replies with his own wan grin. Then he shoots a glance into the living room where Albus, James, and Lily are peering at the group gathered around the dining table. “I suppose the one that looks like a taller you is the one who got my child pregnant.” Funny how Mr Malfoy says things that should be questions, but aren’t. 

“That’s the idiot, yes,” Dad snorts, taking his own drink and downing the contents in one go. 

“Make the other two leave, Potter,” Mr Malfoy commands. “There’s something delicate I have to discuss with you, your wife, and the unfortunate father of my future grandchild.” 

“James, Lily,” Dad calls. “Leave.” There is no room for argument in his tone. 

Which is surprising; usually, Dad isn’t one for keeping secrets from his kids. James and Lily exchange glances, then shoot pitying looks Albus’s way before they take off. 

Once they’ve gone, Mr Malfoy begins. “What I’ll divulge to you now is of utmost secrecy. I will put a magical gag on each of you. You will be unable to share this information in any capacity. Whether it be by thought, written form, or spoken.” 

“All right,” Dad nods, not hesitating. Mum appears worried, but Albus shrugs. Being magically gagged sounds better than being eviscerated. Or worse, castrated. 

“I know your son believes mine to be some sort of tart who goes around riding every knot he meets.” Albus snorts, causing his mum to smack him on the arm. However, Mr Malfoy carries on as if he’s not paying attention to them. “But I can assure you, this unborn child is Albus’s.” Before anyone — _ Albus _ _ — _ can interject Mr Malfoy continues, “Scorpius was a virgin prior to sleeping with your son.” 

“Bullshit,” Albus bursts out. Fear of what Mr Malfoy can do to him be damned. He’s not going to sit around and listen to some stereotypical Alpha father who refuses to believe their Omega child is a slag. He’s been around Uncle Ron plenty when he shouts down the poor sods Hugo has devoured. Uncle Ron refuses to comprehend the fact that Hugo loves to put his arse up for a knot, and Mr Malfoy seems like the sort who is similar to Albus’s uncle. Narrow-minded and a fool. 

Mr Malfoy’s sharp, grey gaze slides over to him. “I assure you, young man, it is not a lie.” 

“He’s got a kid.” Albus knows how babies are made. He’s known for quite some time now. He's had loads of mattress dancing partners. You have to fuck to make a baby, and Albus is certain his face relays that he’s not as stupid as Mr Malfoy seems to believe. 

“In legal name only. The child is not truly his. Rigel is his legally, but he never resided in Scorpius’s womb.” Before Albus can call bullshit again, Mr Malfoy continues over him. “He’s my mother’s biologically. A child she conceived with some penniless servant during the last year of her life.” Albus wants to say this is a crock of shit—who in their right mind would believe this dimestore romance drivel? 

Dad sighs, “I remember the favour, Malfoy.” Which seems to confirm Mr Malfoy’s claim, and Albus wishes the earth would swallow him into its core. 

“Your son doesn’t know you helped conceal the way my mother died.” When Mum draws in a sharp breath, Mr Malfoy adds, “Apparently your wife wasn’t aware, either. Nice to know the gag actually works.” 

“Without it, I’d have kept my word,” Dad grits. His hand tightening around the glass that holds his fourth whiskey. 

“Anyways,” Mr Malfoy continues without acknowledging Dad’s words. “Scorpius volunteered to be the mother of a bastard. Astoria, my darling wife, ruined her ability to claim Rigel as hers when she and Pansy had a bit of a public pissing contest over me.” 

“Cute.” Dad deadpans causing Mr Malfoy to shoot him a withering glare. 

“She all but announced that her womb was removed after Scorpius, due to the medical staff fearing her having another high-risk pregnancy.” He watches Albus in a considering manner. 

“But at school...” Albus starts. 

A laugh comes from Mr Malfoy’s throat, but the sound is menacing rather than full of mirth. “Ah, yes, that’s the joy of being the only Omega child of Draco Malfoy. Nott’s shit of an heir is the one who started those rumours if I recall correctly. Scorpius found him unappealing. So that waste of an Alpha decided to retaliate by telling all of the school Scorpius liked to suck cock.” Though Mr Malfoy speaks with a calm, unaffected tone Albus sees the way his knuckles turn white as he clenches his fist atop the dining table. 

Albus shifts; he remembers when that rumour began. It had been the Third Year, and he remembers the Seventh Years harassing Malfoy in the corridors. Taunting him and catcalling about his  _ pretty mouth _ . He finds himself more disgusted now than he had been back then. Back then he was a young boy who chose to dislike Scorpius more than he chose to call out predacious tendencies. Teddy would be disappointed if he knew Albus wasn't nearly the shining example of an Alpha that a teacher at Teddy's school should be.

The sound of the thick whiskey bottle sliding across the wooden table brings Albus back to the moment. 

“I’m told my son eventually pretended it was all true, which made the pregnancy a relief.” Mr Malfoy pours himself another drink. His jaw clenching for a moment before he continues, “Mother knew she would most likely not survive a pregnancy. The older an Omega is, the more life force is drawn from their magic during gestation. Even still, my mother could not be dissuaded. Abortion is a Muggle’s evil, after all.” 

Mum, Albus notices, shoots Mr Malfoy a judgemental glare for that statement. 

“So, Malfoy...er, Scorpius, faked pregnant in the Seventh Year?” Albus just wants to clarify that he’s not misunderstanding what’s happening. He’s also trying to keep his mother from hexing Mr Malfoy for his slight about Muggles and about abortion. Two things she’s fiercely defensive about. 

“Yes, and apparently, it helped make Alphas leave my child alone,” Mr Malfoy smirks. “Who wants to play daddy to a baby at that age?” 

Albus ignores the question because it feels like a direct taunt at him in this current situation. “So, I’m the only one?” 

“The only one,” Mr Malfoy confirms with a sigh. “Though, I wished he’d have picked someone less Potter to breed with.” Dad’s huff is unamused. Mr Malfoy ignores the sound, downing his drink before he says to Albus. “Scorpius wants to let you believe the child is not yours. He’s raised one child alone and believes he can raise another. For Rigel, it was a necessity. For this one, it is not. While he’s content to be an unwed mother of two children without fathers, I am not okay with that in the slightest.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” Albus is not as brave as his tone suggests. 

Mr Malfoy’s smile is sharp, “I’m here to make you an offer you cannot refuse.” 

*

Life is going great; he’s happy until Dad comes back to the manor with the last person Scorpius wants to deal with. 

“What’s he doing here?” Scorpius demands with a furious tone that he hopes masks his panic. 

“Having dinner. That’s what families do, isn’t it?” Dad counters with that dry tone he’s so fond of using. The one Scorpius hates as much as he envies.

“Family is the key part of your argument,” Scorpius replies waspishly. “I don’t remember Potter being a part of this family.” 

Dad arches an eyebrow, “Something you should’ve thought of before you let him have unprotected sex with you.” Scorpius gapes, unable to respond, but Dad doesn’t wait for him to gather his bearings. He marches past, making his way into the dining room. Dad greets Mum and Rigel warmly as he goes through the thick mahogany doors. As if he hasn’t just shattered everything in Scorpius’s world. 

“You should go,” Scorpius tells Albus. “Before you give us any ideas." Scorpius doesn't think his heart can handle feeling as if he has a chance at a normal love. Childhood erased that fantasy early on. 

“You got something against ideas?” Albus counters. 

“I’ve got something against false hopes, Potter, and you seem like a walking false hope,” Scorpius tells him while turning, striding into the dining hall and making his way to his usual seat at the long table. 

“It’s a start.” Albus sighs, falling into step behind Scorpius.

*

Dinner is an odd affair. 

Mr Malfoy draws Albus into the conversation by bringing up the one topic they can both, mostly, agree on—Quidditch. Scorpius ignores them entirely, focusing on eating instead of acknowledging that Albus is present. Which he supposes is better than Scorpius screaming like a banshee. Mrs Malfoy is blessedly polite, if indifferent. Sticking to eating her braised pork and replying with a smile when Rigel draws her into the fold. Rigel, Albus finds, is downright gleeful to be in Albus’s presence. 

“Your brother was a real tit,” he says, in reply to something Albus mentions about his weekend Quidditch games with his brother and mates. 

“Rigel,” Mr Malfoy admonishes, but it’s not stern enough for Rigel to appear regretful. 

He just continues on, “Well, he was. He kept trying to get handsy with Mum.” 

Albus and Mr Malfoy both frown, but Rigel continues, “I think he wanted to have his way and be gone. Granddad says there’s a lot of Alphas out there like that.” He puffs up his small chest, “Alphas like that don’t deserve my mum.” 

A bit of the wind drops out of Albus’s sails at that. He’s an Alpha  _ like that _ . One and done and onto the next one. When he glances up, from the intense feeling of someone staring, he finds Scorpius watching him with accusing violet-grey eyes. As if he knows that’s what Albus intended. 

“Your mum definitely deserves better than all that,” Albus agrees after a pause. Holding Scorpius’s gaze. 

  
  


*

Dating after becoming pregnant seems like an odd way to do a relationship, but Albus was born a  _ different sort _ . Or so his mum has always liked to claim. Friday evening sees him showing up at Malfoy Manor to bring Scorpius out to dinner. Something that Draco had suggested to them after their previous dinner when Rigel was sent for his evening bath.

“You’re actually here?” Scorpius asks with his usual infuriating tone. The one that tempts Albus with the desire to put that white arse over his knee and smack it until Scorpius learns to mind his tone. In truth, that want is born from horniness and not an actual desire to discipline. 

_ I need to fuck.  _ Albus thinks while he stares at Scorpius’s full, pink mouth. Lips that are twisted with an angry pout Albus wants to devour.

“I’m a man of my word,” Albus replies with as calm a tone as he can manage. Trying not to do something that will end in them fighting or fucking. Or both at the same time. 

Rigel, fortunately, appears in the front foyer. Helping Albus not to do something foolish. Like grab Scorpius by his delicate wrist and drag him close enough to claim.

“Mum, you’re going somewhere with Al?” Rigel glances between them with a curiosity that is common for kids his age. All of Albus’s little cousins are monsters who want to nose about in everything. 

“So it seems,” Scorpius replies in a neutral way. 

“What’re you doing, can I come?” Rigel asks with big, bright eyes. 

“I don’t know if that’s-” Scorpius begins, but Albus cuts him off. 

“Yeah, mate, of course, you can.” He grins wide, “There’s a match between Bulgaria and Italy tonight, I figured we’d watch it at the pub.” Scorpius, Albus notices, rolls his eyes but pretends to be enthused by the plan when Rigel turns towards him. 

“Mum,” he shouts with excitement. “Please let me come along!” 

“Of course you can come with us. Potter’s going to need someone there to talk about the match with.” Scorpius, from what Albus can remember, was bollocks at the sport. 

*

They wind up doing some pre-pub shopping. Nothing Scorpius is interested in buying, but he tries when he sees how entranced Rigel is just being in a Quidditch shop. “Al, look,” Rigel gasps. Pointing at one of the many brooms hanging on the walls. “That’s a broom signed by Oliver Wood.” Rigel jumps in place, clearly thrilled. Scorpius smiles despite himself. 

“You like Wood?” Albus asks, lifting Rigel easily to help him get a better look at the polished ebony wood of the broom. Wood’s name is a sparkle of deep scarlet in the handle, beside the name of the broom model. Storm Chaser. Scorpius snorts to himself, Quidditch obsessed morons always have the strangest names for these brooms. 

“I’ve never seen him play. He was retired ages ago, but he’s a favourite of my Quidditch coach,” Rigel tells Albus with another of his wide, infectious grins.

“You play?” Albus is truly curious, not just keeping the banter to appease Rigel. He’s genuinely interested in Scorpius’s child and that causes something in Scorpius to swell. Feelings he works hard to smash back into submission. 

“Yeah, in a youth league. We play at a pitch in Ottery St Catchpole, and one of the old nutters who runs it is always banging on about the Chudley Cannons.” Scorpius doesn’t know much about Quidditch but he does know the Cannons are still the biggest losers in the league. 

Albus releases a laugh, his smile is delightful and delicious. “Yeah, I know that old nutter. He’s quite fond of the Cannons.” 

“When do you play next?” Albus asks, after he’s sat Rigel back on the floor, and grabs some bottles of broom oil off a shelf. 

“Tomorrow we’ve got practice. It’s a bit until we’ve got an actual match.” Albus picks up the gloves Rigel is admiring and adds them to his stack when Rigel is busy looking at the trunks full of Quidditch balls. As if it’s a normal, everyday thing Albus does—buying things for Rigel. 

“Well, tomorrow, I’d like to come and watch. If you’re all right with that?” Albus's determination to be involved with them is something Scorpius finds distressing.

Rigel bounces excitedly, and Albus seems to take that as permission enough. Rigel becomes even more enthused when Albus gives him the gloves once they’ve exited the shop.

_ This is going to be a disaster, an emotional one.  _ Scorpius decides as they make their way to the dodgy pub Albus finds fitting for a first date. 

*

Albus watches as Scorpius orders a salad and steamed fish. Something that happens after long, long minutes of him trying to decide what would be the  _ healthiest  _ choice. Snorting, Albus orders himself a steak pie with chips while Rigel gets an order of fish and chips. Their menus disappear after they speak their orders at them. Silence turns awkward, for a moment, while they wait for their food and for the match to begin. The announcers are, of course, doing their usual bit of pre-match speculations while discussing each team’s triumphs and failures this season. Albus isn’t paying much attention, but Rigel seems preoccupied with watching the mascots—who do their parts by riling up the crowd. Albus is more interested in watching Scorpius. Something he’s not really done before now. Something he can now openly do because Scorpius is distracted by playing on his mobile. 

Scorpius has long eyelashes. They are hard to see because of how pale they are, but Albus finds himself drawn to their butterfly-like flutter when Scorpius blinks. More interesting is the small, easily overlooked beauty spots that dot Scorpius’s milky skin. A small dark brown freckle is settled in front of his right ear. While two more hide near the lash line of Scorpius’s left eye. A tiny spot resides in the left corner of his lush mouth. A spatter of random marks, like stars, running down the side of Scorpius’s neck makes Albus want to trace them, connect the spots with the invisible trail of his touch. When Albus’s stare is locked on to the larger mark that is teasing its presence from the deep V of Scorpius’s shirt—that’s when Scorpius catches Albus watching him. Scorpius flushes, a beautiful blush of colour that draws a peachy rose hue to his cheeks. He licks at his lower lip, in a show of nervousness, and seems to be preparing to say something when Rigel interrupts the moment between them. 

“Al, did you see that?” He bounces in his seat, pointing at the large sphere that projects the match. A reflection of players moving above a pristine pitch. 

“No, mate,” Albus says with an apologetic tone, though he's not sorry. “I got distracted, what happened?” 

Albus is only half-listening to Rigel telling him about the way the players came onto the pitch. How there was a blaze of red shooting out of the Bulgarian players’ broom tails when they flew across the sky. Albus is more focused on the way Scorpius’s scent becomes potent with arousal. The way Scorpius draws his long fingers, nervously down his own slim neck, ghosting over beauty spots Albus wants to bruise with his teeth. 

Food arriving interrupts Albus’s raging libido, and he’s better able to focus on the match with the way the pub starts booing or cheering for their respective teams. Scorpius shoots a look of disdain around them every time the crowd becomes suddenly loud. Rigel cheers without much bias. He’s more thrilled with the great plays that are executed by both teams. Rigel’s preferred team, apparently, is the Falcons. National teams are, of course, England. 

“Granddad takes me every year to see them play,” Rigel says as he sucks down another glass of his fizzy lemonade. He’s only eaten his chips—smothered them in catsup—and Scorpius keeps gently prodding him to eat his fish. Which makes Albus grin because the softness reminds him of his dad, more than his mum. Dad was the easygoing one. The one who never swatted them or grounded them. He was just too gentle, due to his own awful childhood. 

Albus, it seems, is his mum’s child. Because, before he can think better of it, he says, “Rigel, sit down right and eat your fish like your mum’s told you or we won’t stay and watch the end of the game.” 

Rigel compiles without complaint, even if he looks a little guilty for not minding. Scorpius, however, appears shocked before his shock morphs into fury. Which is not how Albus wants to end his day. 

_ Shit.  _

Gambling with his piss-poor luck, Albus slips off his trainer and nudges his sock-covered foot against the exposed skin of Scorpius’s pale ankle. Another startling expression takes over Scorpius’s face but after a tense moment, he relaxes into Albus’s touch. Which Albus takes as a positive reaction. 

*

The game ends with Italy winning and advancing or something. Albus lets out an annoyed “tsk” at the end of the match, even though Rigel is grinning and shouting with all the other obsessed nutters over the team’s win. 

“Don’t you like Italy?” Scorpius asks Albus when they exit the pub. Rigel’s a bit unsteady on his feet because it is ages past his bedtime. Scorpius goes to lift him, but Albus beats him to the action. Scooping Rigel into his broad arms as if he weighs the same as an infant. Scorpius is mildly annoyed at how attractive Albus seems when he’s doting on Scorpius’s child. 

“I do, they’ve got a great team, but I’m going to lose my bet with my Uncle George, my cousin, and my bellend of a brother,” Albus replies as Rigel yawns into his chest. He’s out less than a minute later and has his small arms wrapped around Albus’s strong, tan neck. How easily children love and trust, Scorpius thinks but doesn't say.

“You’ve got the worst luck.” Scorpius grins instead. He startles when Albus puts an arm around him, drawing Scorpius closer to his side. 

“Is this okay?” Albus checks, whispering so as not to wake Rigel. 

Scorpius nods and allows Albus to lead him to wherever it is they are going. 

Where they arrive is Albus’s home. Duke doesn’t bark when they come in, but he does butt his large head against Rigel’s dangling foot. Waking him. 

“Oh wow, a dog!” Rigel blinks, still tired, but is more alert after his short nap on their walk home. A domestic scene where they all looked like a happy family. “He’s so cool.” Rigel wiggles out of Potter’s arms, dropping down so that he can pet the large brutish creature. “Mum, Al has a dog.” 

“I thought it was a large cat,” Scorpius murmurs in reply. 

Rigel doesn’t hear his sarcastic remark, but Albus chuckles as he goes to the fridge. Retrieving a beer for himself. To Scorpius, he calls, “I’ve got sparkling water if you’d like or I can make some tea?” 

“Water is fine,” Scorpius assures. “But we mustn't impose on you much longer. Rigel needs to get to bed.” 

There’s  _ something _ in Albus’s steady gaze. It looks to be an intense calculation as if Albus is measuring what to say to get exactly what he wants. “Why don’t you both kip here?” 

Scorpius is finding Albus Potter to be full of constant surprises. Still reeling, Scorpius replies, “We shouldn’t. Rigel’s got a full day tomorrow, and I’m sure you have plans as well.” 

“With you.” Albus points out and looks to be readying himself for more pros of why they should stay when Rigel interrupts. 

“Mum!” Rigel breathes, excitement colouring his tone. “Look at all these Quidditch books and magazines.” Scorpius blanches at the giant bookcase wall he missed on his last few stops at Albus’s flat. Gazing up at the wooden monstrosity, Scorpius worries for his eyesight because who could miss it? He doesn’t have time to puzzle over the fact Albus Potter  _ reads _ due to Rigel begging, “Can we stay, please? I want to read through the books.” 

“Well...” Scorpius begins thinking of an excuse. One that dries up, on his tongue, when he smells Albus. A shuddering shiver travels up Scorpius’s spine with the anticipation of what that particular scent means. “I suppose. But I’ll need some clothes and so will you.” Scorpius tells Rigel, focusing on getting through the conversation without embarrassing himself with a moan. 

“I’ll transfigure some of my clothes down to size for him, and for you,” Albus grins. Apparently, he’s already sorted the details in his own mind. Smug bastard. 

“May I have a bath, then? I’m getting tired.” Scorpius says, desperate to leave Albus’s presence before his dripping need is a pungent scent in the room around them.

“You may do whatever you like,” Albus says as his grin grows less than pure. Doing things to Scorpius’s already raging libido. “Take whatever you want out of my wardrobe. Towels are in the cabinet in the bathroom.” With that said, Albus goes to the bookshelf, helping retrieve things Rigel is looking at on the top shelf. Duke, bored with their inattention, does a few turns around before he lies on a large dog bed in the living area. 

Scorpius stays in the bath for what feels like ages. Turning pruney and soft from the warm water he heavily scented with an unopened bottle of rose hips oil he found in a drawer. Scorpius leans his head back. Closing his eyes, he tries to not think about anything. Yet, he does, Scorpius thinks about the future. A future with  _ Potter _ . He sighs out, just as someone clears their throat. Scorpius knows without looking that it’s Potter. There’s something in Albus’s tone—manly, feral,  _ Alpha _ . 

“Did you need something, Potter?” 

A soft chuckle moves through the room. “Rigel fell asleep, so I changed him into an old pyjama set I had and put him in the guest room.” 

“Is that where you’re sticking us for the night?” Scorpius grins in a challenging way. Tilting his head back to stare up at Albus’s looming form. “I’m sure my father will be thrilled to hear you didn’t keep me over with ill intentions.” 

“Your dad actually wanted me to stay over the other night when I came for dinner, but I told him I needed to tend to Duke.” Scorpius watches as Potter rocks back on his heels. His strong thigh muscles shifting beneath his tight jeans. “He said I should just bring Duke to the manor and live with you lot, but I didn’t want to rush you.” 

“Little late to not rush me, don’t you think?” Scorpius counters. As he stands bubbles drip over his pale, naked skin, and Scorpius follows their path with his own fingers. Lingering on the slight swell of his lower abdomen. “There’s already a little life growing here. And I hear they don’t take long to bake.” 

Albus’s eyes are on Scorpius’s stomach. “Were you really...” he trails off, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. A show of awkwardness that Scorpius hates to find endearing. “Were you, erm, untouched when I fucked you?”

Scorpius nods and does his best not to laugh at the absurdity that is Albus Potter at this moment. “But it’s not like I’m upset that it wasn’t some grand romantic moment. I’m not a child, you know. I just wanted what you offered, is all.” 

“I’d have been so much better to you if I had known.” Albus sounds truly regretful. 

“Potter,” Scorpius says, mildly frustrated. “Forget it. It’s done, and I’m not some maiden needing a soft touch.”

Suddenly Albus is there, in Scorpius’s space. One of those large, Quidditch rough hands cupping Scorpius’s smooth cheek. “I want to touch you soft. I want to be slow,” Albus murmurs. His voice is a low-pitched seduction that calls to Scorpius’s baser instincts. 

“Potter,” Scorpius half-pleads, half-whines. 

“Call me Al,” Albus whispers against his ear. “All my friends do.” 

“We aren’t friends,” Scorpius reminds him.

“Then do you want to call me something else?” Albus asks, as his other hand trails over Scorpius’s skin, curving around to draw across Scorpius’s still mostly flat stomach. “How about lover, husband, or...” his smile turns predatory. “You can always call me  _ Daddy _ .” 

“You want to be around for this baby?” Scorpius asks, surprise colouring his words. He figured dinner at the manor and this date were just gestures Albus made to appease Scorpius’s father. 

“If you plan on keeping it, then yeah, I plan on being here,” Albus says those words as if that would be the obvious course of action. 

“In a relationship?” Scorpius needs clarification because there are other ways to raise a child together that don’t require being involved. His father’s got a few friends who live co-parenting lifestyles. Blaise in particular because that ridiculous prat doesn’t know how to keep his cock to one human. Albus seems similar to Blaise in that aspect, and Scorpius isn’t foolish enough to believe that what he and Potter have is love eternal. 

“Why not? I like your arse well enough.” Albus tells him, punctuating that statement by grabbing a handful of Scorpius’s bare arse. 

Scorpius snorts. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“I suppose I can get to know you while you get to know me.” Albus makes it sound too easy. 

Scorpius’s father always said that Potters were simpletons. 

*

Deciding the call of Scorpius’s skin is too much to ignore. Albus runs his thumb across Scorpius’s lower lip before he moves in to kiss him. Slowly approaching so as to give Scorpius enough time to deny Albus if he doesn’t truly want Al’s affection. 

Fortunately, Scorpius doesn’t pull away. He allows Albus to taste him and his acceptance sends a delighted shiver down Albus’s spine. He allows Scorpius to lead them, afraid of spooking him if he’s too aggressive. However, Albus discovers Scorpius only knows weird, slow pecking kisses. Albus draws away from the touch, after a few minutes when they never deepen. 

“Do you not know how to kiss?” He asks, his brow furrowing with curiosity. 

Scorpius flushes, “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Just like that Albus is rock-hard in his trousers. “Open your mouth, let Daddy teach you some things.”

When he touches their tongues together, gently stroking Scorpius’s with his own, Albus feels Scorpius wind his soft fingers through Albus’s hair. Groaning into Albus’s mouth as they deepen the kiss. Breaking apart, Scorpius gasps against Albus’s wet mouth. “Can we do that some more?” 

“As much as you’d like,” Albus murmurs against his soft jaw. “Your mouth is delicious.” 

“I bet you say that to all the Omegas.” Scorpius chuckles, even as he draws Albus closer. Touching their noses together before moving in for another devouring kiss. 

“I don’t,” Albus admits when they break for air. “I usually tell them to bend over and spread for my cock.” 

Scorpius releases a delighted laugh. A sound that causes fuzzy warmth to bloom through Albus’s chest. “I’ll bend over and spread if you want,” Scorpius grins. “I’m already pregnant, guess that means you can forgo the condom.” 

Fucking Scorpius in a bed is much better than fucking him in the showers at the Academy. Here Scorpius commands Albus to lie back, amongst his thick bedding, before Scorpius straddles him with his obscenely pale form. 

“Do you like what you see,  _ Daddy _ ?” Scorpius asks, lazily drawing his tongue across his lower lip. 

Albus does. Scorpius is long, with lean muscle wrapped in smooth, ivory skin that is dotted with little beauty spots Albus is determined to learn. Scorpius is like one of those statues lovingly sculpted to life, only warm to the touch. “You’re a work of art.” 

“Funny,” Scorpius snorts, as he begins to grind on Albus’s cock. Rotating his hips in a way that causes Albus to shudder and his eyes to roll. “You always called me an ugly runt in school.” 

Grinning, Albus replies, “I was a cunt.” He grips his fingers into the plush feel of Scorpius’s arse, nearly coming from just knowing Scorpius is there, with Albus, pregnant with his baby. 

“You’re still a cunt,” Scorpius whispers while he tightens around Albus’s cock. 

“Why’re you so good at this?” He grits his teeth, wanting it to last—wanting to be the best Scorpius will ever have. 

“I might’ve been a virgin, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t playing with toys for most of puberty,” Scorpius grins. “Now, enjoy, I’ve always wanted to try this.” 

Scorpius’s hole grips Albus’s cock tighter while Scorpius continues bouncing up and down on the length with the expertise of a well-practised pornstar. It’s in that moment that Albus determines he will let Scorpius try any damned thing he wants to on Albus’s body. No fuck has ever felt this good. 

*

Scorpius wakes beside a rather naked Albus Potter, and groans when he remembers why he’s there. He hopes to escape the bed unnoticed, but he doesn’t have the same luck he had while in Potter’s apartment the last time. “Mmm, you awake?” The question is asked as Albus rolls over, drawing Scorpius closer to his broader body. He buries his nose in the crook of Scorpius’s neck, and his shadow of a beard tickles Scorpius in a pleasant way. “God, you smell amazing.” 

“Yes, Alpha,” Scorpius adopts a sarcastic lilt. “I stink of your virility.” 

“Put your arse up, I’ll eat it until you’re too blissed out to smart off,” Albus replies with an amused huff.

“Fun as that sounds, I’ve got to go see what my son is doing.” Scorpius rolls out of Albus’s hold. Finding the room cold in comparison to Albus’s skin. “He’s probably wondering why I’m not in the guest room with him.” 

“Does he know?” Albus asks, sitting up with a serious expression. 

“Know what?” Scorpius asks with a confused frown. As soon as the question leaves his mouth Scorpius thinks of how stupid a question it was...obviously Albus means to ask if Rigel knows about their unexpected accident. 

“That you aren’t his mum?” Or perhaps that’s not what Albus meant, and Scorpius is truly thrown by his question. 

“No,” Scorpius grits. ”And he’s not going to know because he  _ is  _ my son.  _ I’m _ the one who raised him.” His parents helped, certainly, but when he agreed to raise Rigel it was with the knowledge that he was expected to fully fill the role of Mother. 

“Fair enough.” Albus shrugs as if Scorpius getting upset is nothing. “Do you think he’ll have questions when we tell him we’re having a baby?” 

“What sort of questions?” Scorpius finds Albus ridiculously irritating when he’s asking questions Scorpius doesn’t want to think about. He prefers Albus when he’s got his big cock out and is releasing a stream of filth while Scorpius’s body milks him for everything he’s got. 

“Questions wondering if he belongs still, you know? Shit kids worry about.” Albus doesn’t seem to realise or care that Scorpius is annoyed with these thoughts. 

“Are you mad?” Leave it to Albus to cook up some kooky scenarios like that.

“No, I’ve got a lot of cousins. Lots of cousins with  _ small children _ , and I’ve seen their kids be shaken by a new sibling. Especially when there’s an age gap. Add more anxiety when the kid is getting a new dad along with a new brother or sister.” 

Scorpius deflates, he hadn’t thought of that. Blended families are not usual in Scorpius’s family, so these aren’t things he has firsthand knowledge about. At least not the way that Albus clearly does. “What would you have me tell him?” He asks after a short, tense silence. 

“Nothing,” Albus shrugs. “Let me do the talking.” 

“You’ve got a knack for trouble,” Scorpius responds with a frown. 

“Probably, but I’ve also got a knack for sorting trouble out.” 

Turns out, Potter is good at dealing with this stuff. When they sit down with Rigel, at breakfast, Albus says. “Hey, mate, what would you say if I told you I want to be your dad?” 

Scorpius’s heart is beating faster than it should be, and he’s considering using his fork to stab out Albus’s pretty green eyes for blindsiding him with that question. 

“Really?” Rigel breaths as if Christmas has come early and brought with it that new broom he’s been begging for. Scorpius thinks the broom would be less problematic than Potter. However, Rigel’s reaction does quell Scorpius’s murderous tendencies and he grips his fork with less rage than he had a second before. 

“Really,” Albus smiles. “I am in this with your mum, but that means being in it with you, too, yeah? I’m not planning on being temporary. I want to be your mum’s partner and that also means being your dad. If you’ll have me?” 

Crying, Rigel nods but his tears are happy. 

“Why aren’t we telling him about the baby?” Scorpius asks once they’ve dropped Rigel at his practice pitch. They wander off, to get something for Scorpius to eat from an old woman who has a snack trolley. Because growing a small human makes Scorpius ravenous. 

After they get Scorpius a crepe, and once she’s wandered away to the next set of parents, Albus answers. 

“Give it a bit, let him enjoy having just us for a moment. Tell him later, when you are starting to show.” 

Albus’s fingers trail across his covered abdomen but even still Scorpius shivers as if it were a graze across his naked skin. “Besides, I like the idea of pretending we’re not yet pregnant. I like to play at trying to knock you up.” Albus’s grin is wicked. 

Using a husky voice, Scorpius leans closer to whisper. “I think I’m ovulating, you better knot me soon if you want to put your baby in me.” He, too, loves playing pretend. 

Which is how they wind up in a public loo. Albus’s hand clamped over Scorpius’s mouth while he fucks Scorpius from behind and knots him. All the while he licks at Scorpius’s sensitive ear and whispers filth about filling his womb with their baby. 

*

Albus falls into a rhythm with his new, ready-made family. Scorpius and Rigel come to live at his place, for the most part. Weekends they spend at the manor in the wing that has always belonged to Scorpius. Sunday’s they alternate tea with Albus’s parents and Scorpius’s. It's all bloody domestic.

Odd—yet easy—how simple it is to spend life with someone Albus never expected to be a part of his story. Waking with Scorpius beside him is soul-filling. Strange, he never thought he’d be the sort to crave companionship the way his parents have it. He always thought he would remain the one who took his nieces and nephews to do things and then dropped them back on their parents when they got fuck annoying. 

However—even when fuck annoying—Rigel is not a child he wants to drop off somewhere and pretend doesn’t exist until their next interaction. Albus, strange as it seems, enjoys being a dad. It’s like being an older brother, but actually being the boss. Which, of course, plays into his Alpha needs of throwing his knot around, but he’s not a dick. He’s trying to help shape a human into a decent one to send out of the nest one day. Honestly, Scorpius needs help in that department, because he’s way too tender with Rigel. Especially, seeing as how the boy is an Alpha. Once he’s delving into puberty that can be a problem, Albus’s mum was not soft and didn’t have a problem putting any of her Alpha children into their place when they tried to cow her into submission. 

On Sunday, at dinner with Albus’s parents, he has to put Rigel in his place with a firm tone. Rigel is whining about Scorpius not flying with them when they’re all sitting in the back garden. “I’m tired,” Scorpius tries to placate. “And I need to stay here where Gran Potter has the warming charms.” 

They’re still keeping the baby news quiet, which Scorpius’s OBGYN-Healer had said was a smart plan until they reach the second trimester. Something about losses lessening by that stage and Albus bout went mental at the thought of Scorpius miscarrying.

“Mum,” Rigel pouts. “You’re so boring.” 

Which clearly  _ hurts _ Scorpius to hear, and the protective part of Albus rises up to fix what’s hurt him. “If you keep talking to your mum like that you won’t be allowed to play, he’s not feeling well, yeah?” Rigel cowers at the obvious rumble of Alpha in Albus’s tone. 

“Al,” Scorpius begins in that placating, yet annoyed, tone he only uses with Albus.“He’s fine.” 

“He’s not,” Albus replies curtly. “He’s being a brat and I don’t fly with brats.” At Rigel he asks, “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, Alpha,” Rigel murmurs, showing his throat in submission. 

“All right, now say you’re sorry to your mum for that rude comment and we’ll fly against James,” he smiles. Winking when he adds, “Someone has to teach that tit he’s not so great in the sky.” 

Rigel returns the grin. He rushes over to Scorpius, hugging him while murmuring, “I’m sorry, Mum. You aren’t really boring.” 

Scorpius drops a soft kiss to Rigel’s dark hair. Over his head, he sends Albus an annoyed glance, but Albus shrugs to convey that he's not sorry. He's not. When Scorpius continues to seem bothered Albus makes an obscene gesture with his tongue in his cheek—a promised apology that he knows will make Scorpius forgive him.

Turns out Albus is probably the one who gives the best head in all of Hogwarts. 

*

Albus looks annoyingly attractive on a broom. Even in the cold of late November, he is shirtless and rippling with golden skin that Scorpius wants to eat. His strong throat strains in an arousing way when he throws his head back and releases a body-shaking laugh at James’s expense. 

“You’re a knob,” Albus's shout is delighted. Then when James throws a Quaffle in his face, Albus laughs again. “Doesn’t change the truth, mate.” 

Lily is on her broom and so is Mr Potter, both of them showing Rigel how to lean into the handle of his broom for better control. Mrs Potter is bringing out a tray of tea and some ginger biscuits to help soothe the queasiness that plagues Scorpius these days. Duke steals one off the tray after she’s sat it down causing Scorpius to grin while she reprimands the large dog. He doesn’t seem fazed. Putting his giant head back on his enormous paws, snuffling as if he’s being wrongfully accused. 

Scorpius calls him over when she’s gone back into the house and feeds him another biscuit. Scratching under his wrinkly, drooly chin before Duke puts his head on Scorpius’s abdomen. He’s near the end of his first trimester, and Scorpius swears he can feel the flutter of movement within him even though his mother has told him it’ll be a while yet. When Duke lays on him, Scorpius feels the baby—he just knows it—as he always does when Duke is near. As if the life in him is excited by the presence of the dog the same way Rigel is. 

“Do you like that,” he asks of Duke, but also of his baby. 

Mr Potter and Lily lead the procession of Potters and one lone Malfoy into the Potter’s home. Mrs Potter has called them in from their small, makeshift pitch for dinner. Scorpius lies there, watching them all go inside, until Albus, bringing up the rear, behind Rigel, stops at his chair. 

“Coming,” he asks. And Scorpius is struck by how  _ easy  _ this is. 

“Not yet.” Scorpius teases, giving double meaning to his reply when he whispers, “But I hope to be soon.” 

Albus, not the moron Scorpius once believed, grins wolfishly. “I’m sure we can arrange that, but let's get some roast in you first.” 

Scorpius takes Albus's offered hand to help him out of his seat. 

Dinner with the Potters is comfortable. It feels so familiar and effortless; as if the Potters are a seamless extension of his life.

James and Lily are having some sort of contest where they try to one-up the other by eating larger and larger bites of roast. Albus is frowning at them both while telling Rigel to never grow up to be as stupid as his siblings. Mr Potter sneaks Duke bits of roll while Albus is distracted. 

Mrs Potter leans closer to him and asks how he is feeling. Though she means how he feels in this moment, Scorpius finds this all exceptionally easy. Pleasant in ways that are unexpected. 

“I’m perfect,” he replies with a whisper. One Albus hears from across the table, he smiles at Scorpius. 

Rigel sleeps on the sofa after he’s stuffed himself on Mrs Potter’s fine food. Duke snores on the squashy sofa, beside him, and Scorpius is torn over waking them. Mr Potter must sense this for he says, “Leave them here, I’ll drop Rigel at primary in the morning on my way to the Ministry. Duke’s been missed in the office so I’ll bring him along for the day. Gives me something to entertain me while I push papers.” 

Albus cracks a smile, “Yeah, just don’t spoil him too much. He didn’t want to come back last time I loaned him out to you.” 

“Well, we all know I’m the fun one,” Mr Potter replies with his own grin. “And I make no promises. It’s the grandfather’s duty to spoil the children.” 

Scorpius drops a quick kiss on Rigel’s head and then flushes when Albus pulls him close. Apparating them both home. 

When they get into the flat, Scorpius breathes into Albus’s kiss, “Can I try something?” 

“Anything,” Albus replies, teeth catching enticingly over Scorpius’s bottom lip. 

He disengages, reluctantly. However, a thrill sings through him as Scorpius drops to his knees. Excited by the prospect of Albus in his mouth. “Oh fuck.” Albus’s nostrils flare as he tries to steady his arousal with calming breaths. “You don’t have to,” he croaks. 

“I want to,” Scorpius replies. Drawing down the zip of Albus’s trousers, after he’s popped the button open and his mouth salivates at how hard Albus already is. “Someone is eager.” 

“I don’t often get blown,” Albus admits. Then when Scorpius gazes up at him he hastily adds, “Last time was ages before we got together. I didn’t mean I’m going out on the regular hoping strangers will blow me now.” Scorpius thinks he’s cute when he’s flustered. 

“It’s because your cock is huge.” Scorpius murmurs against the hot, velvet skin of Albus’s cockhead. He licks at it, treating it like an ice lolly and Albus groans. 

“Quit teasing me,” he pleads. Scorpius draws back. 

“What do you mean?” He’s confused, he’s always heard it feels so good to be licked on. The wicked way Albus always licks him 

“Erm,” Albus swallows. He’s a bit hesitant before he asks, “Scorpius, have you never sucked a cock?” 

Scorpius snorts, “When would I have?” 

“Shit.” Albus hisses, his fingers tightening in Scorpius’s hair for a moment before he calms himself. “I forget I’m the one who has to show you.” 

“Well excus-” Albus cuts him off. 

“No, baby, believe me...I want all those firsts.” Albus never thought he’d want to train a virgin. Something about the notion seemed like a pain in the fucking arse, but  _ training  _ Scorpius does things to his lizard brain. “Now,” he has a low rumble in his tone. “Open that pretty mouth, let Daddy teach you some things.” 

Watching Scorpius open his pink lips, watching his lovely tongue extend out as he draws the girth of Albus into his mouth nearly has Al coming. Yet, neither of those things is as exquisite as the wet suction of Scorpius. 

“That’s it, treat me like a lolly,” he hisses a bit when he feels the graze of Scorpius's pretty teeth. “Mind the teeth. Oh fuck,” he murmurs when his cock hits the back of Scorpius’s throat and most of Albus is stretching out the O of his mouth. A mouth he fucks in earnest when he realises Scorpius isn’t choking on his length. “God, do you know how you look?” 

Scorpius pulls off of him, his grey-violet eyes shimmering a bit when he asks, “How do I look,  _ Daddy _ ?” 

“Like you’re hungry for me.” Albus groans, drawing his finger over Scorpius’s swollen, spit wet lips. 

“My arse is starving for you.” Scorpius purrs, licking on Albus’s finger, nipping at the pad of it with his perfect white teeth. 

*

Scorpius moans while he sits in Albus’s lap, rocking slow but deep. That long, thick cock hitting him in all the right ways. Albus’s hands, calloused and arousing, run over the bump of Scorpius's lower abdomen. At the back of his neck, Albus’s mouth sucks bruises into his skin, teeth dragging over his flesh in a possessive way that Scorpius’s body thrills at. 

“Tell me you love my cock,” Albus commands. “Tell me it’s the best you’ve ever had.” 

“Who would I compare it to?” Scorpius teases, and that, of course, makes Albus more feral. 

“Fuck, you’re all mine.” 

“All yours,” Scorpius agrees, clenching around Albus. “Knot me, remind me I’m yours only.” 

Albus does, and Scorpius thinks he exceeds all the expectations Scorpius built for himself when he spent years riding his thick toys. 

He hopes Albus always defies his fantasies. 

*

Albus wakes on a Wednesday to an empty bed. Scorpius has some work he does, for his dad or whatever. Al only half listens when it comes to the Malfoy’s family business. Bored he opens his mobile. Intent on texting James, but his phone has an InstaOwl notification and curiosity gets the best of him when he opens the app. 

It’s a notification about a post, from a very familiar body. One he used to see in his dreams. One that he looks at with remembered longing, and then fear when he reads the caption beneath the nearly nude image. 

_ Mummy can’t wait to meet you. #14weeks #DaddyIsGoingToLoveYou  _

Albus finally registers that he’s looking at a small baby bump, then he panics when he scrolls up—searching for that long-ago photo Lily bitched about. The photo so kindly reminds Albus that it is 14 weeks old. His stomach fucking drops. 

_ Can’t be. No, no...it can’t be mine, right?  _ He’s panicking as he remembers he forgot the condom. “Fuck,” he murmurs to himself, then tosses his phone into the blankets that smell of him and Scorpius. Suddenly, Albus's throat is choking him with intense self-hatred and grief. “Fuck,” he whispers again. 

A coward would pretend not to know. Albus has been a coward, sure, but he’s not so much of one that he can ignore an Omega that might be carrying his  _ other _ child. 

He lifts his phone, hesitating a moment before he sends a direct owl to  _ KnotHungry _ . 

_ Can we meet? I’ve got to ask you something.  _

The reply comes just as fast,  _ sure, want to meet at Quartz Cafe in a couple of hours? I’m almost done with work.  _

_ Sure.  _ Though Albus doesn’t want to meet this other Omega. He doesn’t want to think about how this will hurt Scorpius. 

_ Shit.  _

*

Albus is sitting in the cafe with his head bent, in dejection, and his hands folded over the back of his neck. Scorpius frowns, wondering what has him in such a state when he enters the door. The bloodhound nose that Albus has isn’t working, for once or so it seems because he doesn’t snap his head up when Scorpius arrives. Instead, Albus is so far inside his own head that he’s not realised Scorpius is there until Scorpius clears his throat. 

Startling, Albus jumps. His eyes going wide when he stares up at Scorpius in a fearful manner. “Scorpius,” his voice cracks over the name. Scorpius would find it endearing if he wasn’t so confused and worried about what has Albus in such a state. Before he can ask Albus adopts a brittle smile as he says, “What’re you doing here?” 

A laugh comes out of Scorpius as he replies, “Meeting you for lunch, silly.” He lifts his mobile, “You messaged me, remember?” 

Scorpius starts piecing together what is happening when he watches confusion, then relief spread over Albus. 

“Oh, yeah,” Albus laughs, trying to play off that he  _ knew _ . Yet, some unsettling feeling spreads through Scorpius when he realises Albus did not know Scorpius was that person; the one in a long, ash-blonde wig, wearing loads of makeup. “So what do you want to eat?” 

Scorpius swallows, hurt by the realisation that Albus came to this cafe to meet  _ another Omega.  _ One he must’ve thought he also impregnated because the bastard doesn’t know how to use protection. When he remains standing, staring at Albus, it causes Albus to look up from his menu and ask. “Scorpius? Babe, you all right?” 

“No.” Scorpius whispers. When Albus has the audacity to look confused, Scorpius hisses, “You came here, thinking you’d find another person, didn’t you?” 

“No, no,” Albus protests. “C’mon, you know I wouldn’t do that.” 

“Were you going to choose him?” Scorpius asks, talking over Albus’s denials. 

“No, Scorpius, I wouldn’t choose anyone over you.” Albus swears to him, an oath of solemnity, but all Scorpius hears is a lie. 

Scorpius doesn’t believe that. Can’t believe those words. It’s not like theirs is a love undying. Circumstances caused them to fuck and make a baby and now play family. “Why did you want to see  _ him  _ then?” Scorpius hates that Albus makes him second-guess himself because of a persona Scorpius created. 

Albus, seeming to realise he is caught, deflates. “I just wanted to know if it was mine.” 

“It’s yours, all right,” Scorpius snarls. “And I wish it fucking wasn’t.” With that, he storms out of the cafe. Deciding he needs to be anywhere but near Albus. 

*

Albus doesn’t often smoke, but James insists they share a spliff when Albus’s attitude gets him reprimanded at work a few days in a row. 

They go to James’s flat because there’s no chance Albus will feel peace within his own. Scorpius’s presence lingers through things he left—fresh memories—and through his lingering scent. A scent that clings to the walls, mocking Albus by reminding him that he once had a happy reality with Scorpius. One Albus broke with his own damnable hands.

“Why didn’t I realise?” Albus demands of no one in particular. 

Though the question wasn't meant for him, James still answers. “You didn’t see Scorpius as himself in the first month, yeah? Scents don’t immediately blend. It’s why it takes a minimum of four weeks for Omegas and their Alpha partners to realise they’re pregnant. Usually takes longer than that, though, according to Dad.” 

“But at work, why didn’t I smell him then?” Albus asks after he exhales a cloud of pungent smoke. “I should’ve known that peach scent. God, it was addictive.” 

“You know Teddy makes the Omegas and the Omega trainers shower off their scent with scent blockers, yeah? To reduce the risk of some knothead trying to get at them.” James being reasonable is Albus’s least favourite version of James. 

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Albus knocks his head against the back of James’s sofa. 

“To be fair, mate, he probably thought you knew.” 

Albus takes the ball Duke offers him and tosses it, watching in a dejected way when his dog also seems depressed there isn’t a small boy there to wrestle playfully with Duke for that ball. “Tell me he’s overreacting, Jamie. I mean...fuck, I wasn’t going to have an affair.” 

“Al, let’s be real, if it were the other way around...If Pious had been meeting with some Alpha because he thought there was a slim margin it could be that person’s, you’d be pissed.” James's tone is entirely too practical, and Albus hates his brother a little more for speaking sense.

“I’d-” James cuts him off. 

“When you thought it might be mine you went fucking mental, don’t act like you’d be understanding.” James's eyes narrow in his direction. He rubs at his own jaw, as if recalling the pain Albus inflicted on him when they had their row over Scorpius. That feels like a lifetime ago now. 

Albus doesn't enjoy admitting James has a point. Yet, Al has to agree. Albus was consumed with jealous rage over the possibility James had planted the seed in Scorpius first. “Still, I wish he’d talk to me.” 

“When you fucked him in that wig, were you different?” James asks instead of giving Albus some empty, consoling platitude. None of the Potter children possesses a good bedside manner. 

“What do you mean?” Albus’s eyebrows knit together in his stoned confusion.

“Were you kinder? More passionate? Were you different than what Pious knows outside of the makeup and wig?” 

He can’t remember, strange as that sounds. It’s as if his mind refuses to recall anyone that isn’t Scorpius. “Maybe,” Albus murmurs after a time.

*

Dad is the one who corners him, due to Rigel’s pouty expression and Scorpius’s son’s constant bitching about the lack of Albus Fucking Potter in their lives. 

“Do you mind explaining to me the reason my grandson is moping about the manor? The portraits are complaining.” 

Scorpius doesn’t care. Fucking load of tossers in those portraits, all of them could do with some ruffling. Even still he answers his dad's question because Draco’s wearing  _ that _ face. The one that tells Scorpius he’ll nag until Scorpius tells him what’s happening in the implosion that is Scorpius’s life. 

“I broke up with Albus,” Scorpius informs him with a dull voice. 

“Why?” Dad demands, clearly not approving of this development. Fucking traditionalist. 

“Because he was trying to meet another Omega,” Scorpius hisses. 

His dad’s face goes blank—dangerous—before he speaks. Draco’s voice quiet and terrifying, “I’ll kill him.” 

Scorpius laughs, “The other Omega was  _ me _ , Dad. Save going to prison for something important.” The nice thing is his father doesn’t ask Scorpius why he’s being  _ stubborn  _ the way Mum had when he told her. If anything his dad seems to understand the ways this hurts Scorpius’s fragile self-esteem and crumbling pride. 

“He’s an idiot.” There’s a bit of a sigh that follows the words, “I’d had such hopes for him.” A dry sort of chuckle comes out of Draco before he adds, “To think I’d offered him wealth beyond his dreams to be good to you.” 

Scorpius releases a sad sound. Because, of course, his father had to  _ buy  _ him an Alpha. Everyone wants to fuck Scorpius—or so they tried in school—yet no one wants to tie him down. At least not of their own volition. 

“Better he’s gone now, before the baby," Scorpius says into their tense silence.

Dad purses his lips, “You can’t totally cut him out of your life. These are different circumstances than Rigel.” 

Scorpius sighs again, putting his head into his hands. “I know. Good thing I don’t actually love him, huh,” he jokes. “This would be hard if I did.” 

*

“Mum?” Rigel comes in to check on Scorpius when he’s bent over the u-bend, sicking up breakfast. 

“I’m all right,” Scorpius promises, smiling weakly after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m just a bit under the weather.” 

Rigel chews at his bottom lip, then asks, “Is it the baby?” 

Scorpius stops cold, eyes going wide. “Who told you about that?” 

He kicks the carpet with a sock-covered foot, “I was listening to Granddad talk to Gran about it.” 

“You’ve got to quit sneaking around,” he scolds, but he’s wearing a grin, so he doubts the reprimand will do any good. 

“So I’m going to be a big brother?” There’s a hopeful lilt to Rigel’s tone, and Scorpius draws him closer. Breathing him deeply, and being glad his Gran gave him one great gift, at least. Rigel was the baby he’d always wanted. First, as a sibling, but fulfilling the mothering role for him made Scorpius feel accomplished, content, and happy. It helped wash away the sting of his school years and made him feel needed, for once. Wanted in ways his peers never showed. 

“You are going to be a big brother,” he whispers into Rigel’s dark hair. “Probably the best big brother there ever was.” 

“That’s a given,” Rigel puffs up and Scorpius laughs. 

He basks in Rigel’s warmth, silent, wonderful moments that Rigel breaks with a question Scorpius was hoping to avoid. 

“When’s Al coming back?” 

_ Who knows... _

  
  


*

It’s three weeks before Scorpius contacts him. Three gruelling weeks in which Albus obsessively watches his InstaOwl feed, desperate to find some sign in Scorpius’s alter ego that there is hope for their future. All that’s been posted is images of baby furniture and a nursery that looks more expensive than all of Albus’s parents’ properties combined.  _ He needs nothing of me.  _

Albus is trashed—emotionally exhausted and frayed with regret when Scorpius shows up to his flat one Saturday morning. “Scorpius,” Albus breathes, going to draw him close but refrains when Scorpius holds up a staying hand.  _ Still fucked off then. _

Duke bounds over regardless and growls in a fond, talkative way while Scorpius strokes his soft pelt. “Do you need a drink or anything?” Albus hastily tries to play at good host. 

“No, I was just dropping by because I need to talk to you about Rigel.” Scorpius's voice is wan, causing Albus's heart to ache with self-loathing.

“Rigel?” Albus echoes. Confused as to why they are discussing Rigel. 

Scorpius answer that for him when he says, “You told Rigel you wanted to be his dad. And you’re going to have to follow through with that because he’s distraught about our separation. Telling him there is going to be a baby probably isn’t helping his anxiety over the situation.”

“You told him we broke up?” Albus asks with a small voice. 

“What did you expect,” Scorpius replies. “We aren’t in love, Albus. We are only delaying the inevitable if we continue this course.” 

“Right,” Albus grits. 

“If you don’t want to be a part of the baby’s life then I’ll just tell Rigel there isn’t going to be any connection. I’ll lie, if you want, and say it’s not yours.” How readily Scorpius concedes, throwing them away as if they were last week's paper. 

“I’m not going to fuck off out of my kid’s life,” Albus replies hotly. 

“It’s a two for one deal, mate. You’ve got to be Rigel’s dad, too, then.” Scorpius says those words in a manner that suggests he doesn't believe Albus is capable of loving Rigel or their baby.

“I already said I would be." Albus curls his lip, voice going hard. “I’m not the sort of bloke who goes back on his word.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Scorpius replies. Affecting a tone of devil-may-care before he digs something out of his coat’s pocket. “Here.” 

Albus takes the printout of another scan. There on the glossy black and grey print are words that twinkle.  _ It’s a boy! _

“My Healer says there’s a good chance he’ll be an Alpha since you have an Alpha dominant family, but strange things do happen...I’m an exception, myself.” He snorts when Albus goes to hand him the scan back, “Keep it, I’ve got my own copy.” 

Albus stares at the scan intently, thrilled and sad at the way things are going. He’s so enraptured he almost misses it when Scorpius says, “Rigel wanted to invite you to his match.”

“When,” Albus immediately asks. Ready and willing. 

*

Auntie Pansy is the bane of Mother’s existence, despite the fact they are best friends. Scorpius has the great pleasure of sitting between both of them when they take tea at some posh place in Paris midweek. 

“You know I taught him that, yes?” Pansy laughs. Doing all she can to rile Mum up—it’s some sort of pastime for her. 

“Darling,” Mum simpers, after a dainty sip of her dry martini. “I did it better, that’s why he wound up with me.” 

“Bitch,” Auntie Pansy hisses. “He was my boyfriend first.” 

“Pansy,” Mother draws out her name in condescension. “You gave it up without actually ever being his girlfriend. That’s why you didn’t get him.” 

“Can you both quit throwing your twats around?” Scorpius begs when it seems they will have another of their embarrassing drunken scenes. The papers absolutely  _ love  _ those. Dad, however, gets infinitely annoyed. When that happens he has to  _ teach  _ Mum a lesson. A horrific thing, really, because  _ teaching _ means that Scorpius’s dad tortures her with pleasure. The kind of pleasure that has Mum wailing for more, begging him like a knot hungry Omega from a porno. It’s obscene and Scorpius isn’t in the mood to hear people getting good dick when he’s not. He huffs, throwing his mum a disappointed expression. “If you want to rile Dad up and make him fuck you, in various creative ways, you can just roleplay. You don’t have to cause a scene.” 

Auntie Pansy cackles. Scorpius turns to her, drawling, “And you...I know for a fact you aren’t hung up on Draco Malfoy’s knot. You’re forever obsessed with the knot of one Ms Greengrass.” 

Auntie Pansy’s grin grows lecherous. “Well, if your father had half the tongue Daphne does I might’ve made more effort with him.” 

Mother snorts. “I should’ve known you only ever came to see me in the summers to fuck my big sister.” Mum’s nonpulsed about the fact that Scorpius’s father once fucked her best friend. 

Laughing, Auntie Pansy replies. “Your mother is so stupid. She really should’ve known better. I mean we weren’t exactly quiet.” 

“Mother please,” a deep, exasperated voice comes from behind their seats. Scorpius glances up to find his cousin Devon wearing a deeply troubled expression on his handsome face. “No one wants to hear about why you had to have a hasty wedding.” 

“You were worth it, love.” Auntie Pansy replies, accepting a kiss to her cheek from her oldest child. 

“So you’ve said a thousand times.” He takes a seat beside Scorpius and it’s been a few years so Scorpius openly stares at the rugged appearance Devon has developed while away. He’s got a beard now. A short, neatly-trimmed one of medium-blond colour that covers his sharp jawline. But it’s when his honey brown eyes fall on Scorpius that he feels a bit warm beneath the collar.  _ Fuck, I need to get myself off if I’m finding Devon attractive enough to be affected.  _

Scorpius realises his cousin has said something, and he didn’t catch a word of it, “Pardon, I didn’t catch that.” 

Devon shakes his head, fondly repeating, “I see you’ve got yourself into another spot of trouble.” He indicates the more noticeable swell of Scorpius’s stomach. 

Laughing, he replies, “Isn’t that the way it always goes?” 

Auntie Pansy, Scorpius notices, has a considering gleam in her eye as she watches their exchange. 

*

Rigel clings to Albus when Albus shows up to take him to his game. Scorpius and Mrs Malfoy are not present. However, Mr Malfoy is and he’s watching Albus with a look that could incinerate. 

“Is Scorpius meeting us at the game?” Albus figures that’s the safest thing to say given the circumstances. 

“He said he’d meet you when it was over, he had a previous engagement.” Draco's tone is polite but noticeably stiff.

Albus is thinking of something to say in response when Rigel boisterously calls out to Draco. “Bye, Granddad, I’ll see you later!” 

Mr Malfoy wears a soft expression when he replies, “Behave and have fun today. I’ll come to the next game. I’ve got work or I’d go to today’s match.” Albus is surprised by Mr Malfoy’s sincerity. 

“I know, it’s okay,” Rigel beams. “I miss hanging out with just Al.” 

They leave after that, Albus Disapparating while holding Rigel’s hand. They reappear not too far from The Burrow. Where Albus’s Quidditch obsessed family shelled out money to build a littles Quidditch pitch. A few of them, actually. Since they aren’t regulation-sized, they’re for small beginners. Something Uncle Ron and Uncle Charlie were particularly passionate about creating. Uncle Bill, Uncle Percy, Dad and Uncle George (mostly) put in funding to help make the dream a reality. Albus grew up playing on these pitches, and now so will his children. 

It’s a sobering thought. 

“I’m at Pitch Four today,” Rigel bounces with excitement. Leading the way while Albus carries most of the gear. 

When they get to Pitch Four, Uncle Ron is settling a quibble between a couple of kids. Once it seems sorted he glances up, sighing in relief as he spots Albus. 

“Al, I’m going to need a favour,” he begs while running a hand through his thinning ginger hair. 

Pulling a face, Albus asks, “What sort of favour?” Favours for Weasleys usually involve lots of brat wrangling.

“Rose is hacked off at me about something. She’s banging on about like her mum does at me and so I’m short a referee today.” Albus isn’t shocked Rose and her dad are on the outs. That’s been Rosie’s whole damn life. 

“You got a broom?” Al asks. Since this is the sort of favour he can manage. 

“Yeah, it’s old, but it’ll have to do for today.” Uncle Ron scratches at his greying temple.

Old, Albus finds, is an understatement. It’s a broom from ages ago, probably back before Albus’s own father popped his first knot. A  _ Nimbus 2001 _ , that’s what Uncle Ron shoves at him and Albus frowns at the dull wooden handle. 

“Nimbus isn’t even around anymore,” Albus complains. Embarrassed that he has to put his arse in this seat. 

“I’ll have you know, that was the broom to have in my day.” Uncle Ron puffs up, in his usual show of Weasley pride. 

Albus huffs. “Yes, that and the other ancient model, the  _ Firebolt _ . Dad’s got a fondness for banging on about his old broom.” 

“Just get on it and mind the kids. You shouldn’t need anything as fast as that model you use.” 

Famous last words. 

Albus isn’t working Rigel’s match, which Rigel had been understanding about. Something Albus appreciates, because he’d have been a pissed off little shit if he had been in Rigel’s position when young. Albus was a terror then and isn’t much better now if his failing at life is anything to go by.

Albus is at Pitch Two, which is adjacent to Pitch Four, so he can see Rigel playing. Handy, he finds, when this group of four to six-year-olds is proving to be as interesting as Granddad Weasley explaining the function of a rubber duck. While he’s sitting there, pretending to play referee, one of the Bludgers goes wonky at Pitch Four. Shooting out of control, causing concerned parents to shout and gasp. Albus reacts before he thinks. Pushing his ancient broom. Moving with all the speed he can force into it, and he grabs a child out of the way. The kid's broom splinters, but that’s the least of Albus’s concern. Ron's too when he pulls up to the field with his wand drawn. He subdues the Bludger without much problem while Albus takes the small girl to the ground. Her parents meet him there, thanking him profusely. No one’s died in a good while from a Quidditch related accident, but they are known to still happen. Even without death, mending bones or getting knocked amnesiac isn’t appealing. 

Rigel comes over to him, clinging to Albus after he’s discarded his small broom. “Are you all right?" He half sobs. “You were so cool,” because that’s always a prevalent thought for the young once the danger is over. 

Ron decides to call off the matches. Telling the teams they can rematch later as he flicks his wand, commanding the balls back into their chest. “I’ll need to cancel all the matches and take these in for routine magical inspection. Clearly, they missed something the last time,” Ron informs Albus. He claps a hand on Albus’s shoulder, “Good work, Al. You saved a kid today.” 

“Might as well rename me Harry,” Albus jokes. Causing something in Ron’s blue eyes to sparkle in remembrance. 

*

Rigel rings Scorpius on his mobile after some disaster at his Quidditch match. He’s talking so fast and so excitedly Scorpius can hardly decipher what he means. All Scorpius understands from the conversation is that someone was nearly hurt. Badly. Which makes his own anxiety flare. 

“Al’s taking me for dinner and ice cream. I’ll see you later.” Rigel loudly declares before he ends their connection.

Scorpius’s heart cannot settle after their conversation. He spends long minutes staring at his mobile while chewing at his bottom lip. Finally, he says, “Mum, I’ve got to go. Rigel needs me.” 

She waves him on with a knowing smile, “Go to him, love. Our tedious company is always available.” 

Devon offers to take him since Scorpius is queasy, and he gladly accepts the offer. Grateful for Devon’s strong arms when he nearly loses his lunch to the grass. “Thanks,” Scorpius says with feeling. His back causes him to wince. The son Albus put into him is wreaking havoc on his spine these days, and his Healer said it could grow worse. A joy he’s not looking forward to. A warm hand touches against his lower back, steadying him, but Scorpius’s hisses because the slightest pressure relieves a bit of the ache. 

Which is how Albus finds them. 

He’s making his way out of that dodgy pub he’s a fan of with Rigel at his side. Both of them laughing until Albus falls silent at the sight of Scorpius. His green eyes narrow at Devon with suspicion, and there’s a part of Scorpius that feels wrong at having betrayed Albus’s expectations. He smashes that part of himself into submission. 

“Heard the match was cancelled,” Scorpius begins when they get close enough to be heard without having to shout. 

Albus still frowning, doesn’t reply to that. Instead, he asks, “Who is this?” 

Rigel also seems curious because he’s never met Devon. Adventuring around the globe keeps Devon from most of the family parties, last time Rigel would’ve seen Devon would’ve been at his Christening. Which Devon only attended because Aunt Daphne made him. 

Something in the jealous way Albus bows up at Devon has Scorpius wanting to make him more jealous. He wants to give Albus the bitter taste that Albus’s own betrayal put onto Scorpius’s tongue. “This is Devon Parkinson. He took lunch with my mother and I.” Devon, Scorpius notices, shoots him a sideways glance but rolls with the semi-lie. The name Greengrass would have calmed Albus instantly, and Scorpius doesn't want him calm. He wants Albus furious.

“I take it you are the baby’s father,” Devon says as he steps forward, hand extended. A power move of Alpha dominance radiating from him and Albus is posturing just as hard when he takes the offered hand. 

“I am,” Albus all but growls. Then jerking his head at Rigel he adds, “This one is mine, too.” Something about the way he claims all that is Scorpius's makes the Omega part of him purr with pleasure. Causing Scorpius to grow wet and needy. Something Albus must taste because his nostrils flare and his gaze flickers to where Scorpius stands. 

Scorpius doesn’t hear what else they say, he’s too busy focusing on the spicy scent of Albus’s own angry arousal. He hardly notices when Devon leaves them, and can barely focus on getting Rigel home. Scorpius misses the way his father frowns as he makes a weak excuse to see Albus back to his flat. 

“Thought we weren’t doing this?" Albus murmurs before he licks into Scorpius’s devouring kiss. 

“I need cock, Potter, and it might as well be yours,” Scorpius replies, shimmying out of his trousers. 

“What about that other bloke’s cock?” There’s that jealousy, causing Scorpius to groan with want. 

“Right now I want  _ yours _ .” He turns, bracing his palms in the doorway while Albus spreads him with strong hands. Fucking into him without foreplay. Scorpius doesn’t want it, he wants that cock. Hard, hot, and oh so deep. Exactly the way Albus fucks, and Scorpius shouts praise while Albus gives him the dicking of his life. 

*

Albus wakes to an empty bed. Like he had all those times Scorpius was a stranger in a wig. It makes something in him ache. Sitting up he stares down at the remainders of Scorpius’s lustful hunger. Bruises sucked into his abdomen before Scorpius had trailed lower to devour Albus’s cock. There are scratches on his biceps and shoulders from where Scorpius had clawed into Albus as he rode him with a harsh, needy rhythm. 

Their sex is always blinding. Giving Albus the sort of afterglow that lingers for days, but he doesn’t mourn Scorpius’s fantastic arse so much as he mourns moving through life with him. Or so Albus is discovering as he goes about his day. 

“Same,” Albus mutters when Duke puts his heavy head on Albus’s knee and huffs in a dejected manner. 

*

“How do I quit his cock?” Scorpius complains when he’s at lunch with his aunt. 

“Is it huge,” she asks in response. 

Scorpius huffs. “Yes, obscenely so. He’s as big as my favourite knotting toy.” Though just as big, Scorpius knows Albus is better. 

“Is he a late-comer?” Pansy is downright vulgar. 

Even so, Scorpius answers, “Yes. He’s got this stupid, egotistical need to make me come before him.” 

“Don’t quit his cock, it sounds fucking fabulous.” She tells him while snapping at the waiter to send her another drink. Lush. 

“But he went to meet another Omega behind my back, thinking he’d knocked them up.” Scorpius reminds her as he runs a fingertip around the rim of his water glass. Sad he can't drink away the day with his ridiculous aunt.

“That Omega was _ you _ , Scorpius.” Pansy reminds with a pointed look; she takes a drink of the foul-smelling vodka tonic she’s ordered herself. The scent of which makes Scorpius queasy. 

“And what if the next one he wasn’t safe with isn’t  _ me _ ?” Scorpius counters. “Am I supposed to be one in a harem of stupid Omegas who get up the spout with Albus Potter’s spawn?” 

Pansy nods in a thoughtful way, “You just need to determine if that’s a risk you want to take, my darling.” 

“I wish I didn’t love his cock.” Scorpius pouts. 

“If it’s just his cock, love, then drop him—plenty of good Alphas with fabulous cocks and big knots.” That’s the problem. Scorpius isn’t sure if it is  _ just _ his cock. 

*

Scorpius comes round like clockwork. Every three days has him gagging for Albus’s knot. So Albus is surprised when he’s knocking on the door after only two days. “Scorpius?” His eyebrows move up and his shock must be visible because Scorpius scowls. 

“Were you expecting someone else?” His voice is snappy.

Sighing, Albus replies. “No, you don’t normally show up before three days.” When Scorpius looks at him with a confused expression he huffs, “Nevermind, come in.” 

Scorpius steps inside and as is usual puts his hands on Albus, hungry for skin to skin contact. “I need you to fuck me,” he says. As always his words are full of desperation.

Albus sighs, stepping away from Scorpius's luring form.“I can’t keep fucking you.” 

Fear flits across Scorpius’s face and with a shrill tone he demands, “Have you found someone else?” 

“God, no,” Albus half-shouts from surprise at the accusation. He deflates a little, pushing his hands through his hair. “I just can’t keep fucking you. I mean...shit, I could fuck you for the rest of forever. I just mean I can’t  _ only _ fuck you. I want more than your hole. I got spoilt when we had a go at this living together thing. Then it went tits up because I didn’t talk to you.” He grabs Scorpius’s hand, lifting it to his mouth to kiss each of his fingertips. Gently trying to convey how much he loves Scorpius. 

“If he wasn’t me what would you have done?” Scorpius asks with a soft, vulnerable expression. 

Albus sighs. “I’d have told him I can’t do life with him, but would’ve offered financial assistance and would’ve asked to be present in my kid’s life. But I didn’t want to build a home with  _ him _ . I wanted to build one with  _ you _ .” 

“Are there going to be other Omegas coming round with kids you don’t know about?” Scorpius has the right to doubt Albus, but that fact doesn't make the accusations easier.

“No,” Albus assures. To Scorpius’s disbelieving expression he adds, “I never forgot the condom or potion with anyone but you. Both yous.” 

“Why’s that?” Scorpius wonders, curious about Albus and his seemingly consistent bad sex practices. 

“I half think it’s because of your scent, something in my Alpha brain wanted to claim you in the most permanent way.” 

“What if you don’t like my scent after the baby is born?” Scorpius seems terrified of that thought.

Albus chuckles, drawing Scorpius closer to him. Glad he's able to touch him like this again, he says. “Believe me, that won’t happen.” Albus falls to his knees before Scorpius and nuzzles his nose against Scorpius’s shirt-covered stomach. “I popped a knot when I smelt you in that club before you were pregnant. James took the fucking piss for weeks. And, God, when I went into that loo I nearly came in my trousers from the taste of you on the air.” 

“So you like it then?” Scorpius jokes, running his fingers through Albus's thick hair. 

“I more than like it,” Albus replies, drawing Scorpius’s wrist to his mouth to kiss and lick. “I would gladly drown in it, I love your scent so much.” Looking up, into Scorpius's eyes, he whispers, "Though...I must admit I love you more." 

"You don't even know me," Scorpius says. Repeating words from months earlier.

“So, Scorpius, let me spend the rest of my life getting to know you.” 

  
  


Epilogue:

Most of Albus’s greatest life decisions can be summed up in a word: Jamie. When he got Duke, off some old lady in the Alley who was trying to find her last scrawny puppy a home. Jamie was the one who convinced Albus he needed that underfed dog. When Albus got an offer to try out for the Falcons, Jamie was the one who told him he had to go. When Albus was dragging his feet asking Scorpius to marry him, Jamie was the one who told him he needed to make an honest Omega out of Scorpius.

Now, here Albus is living another good choice that was born of Jamie’s influence. 

“You’re glowing, mate,” Jamie whispers to Albus. 

“I’m fucking happy,” Albus whispers back. 

“Al,” his brother grins, “The whole damn world knows that. They caught you on camera being  _ fucking  _ happy with Scorpius in a loo.” 

“We were celebrating my win,” Albus isn’t embarrassed. He’s got a great body and a good cock—Albus doesn’t have anyone he wants to impress outside of Scorpius. So, if the world has an issue with what they were doing then that’s a them problem. 

“I thought you were celebrating the good news about the next little Potter that Scorpius is expecting,” Jamie is too casual as he drops that surprise on Albus. 

Albus who startles the officiant at the altar when he shouts, “What the fuck do you mean _expecting_?” 

“Surprise,” James shrugs, a mischievous grin tilting up the corners of his mouth. “Rigel and Lynx are gonna have a little sister soon.” 

“Way to ruin the surprise, Potter,” Scorpius’s soft voice draws Albus’s attention. 

“You’ll be a Potter soon,” James reminds Scorpius—to the obvious irritation of Mr Malfoy. Albus pays little attention to Mr Malfoy or his obnoxious brother while he takes in the image of Scorpius. 

Scorpius is stunning, in an ornate robe of ivory with silver embroidery that glimmers in the candlelight. Scorpius looks like everything Albus wants but doesn’t deserve. 

As if reading his mind, James steps up behind him, whispering low enough for only Albus to hear. “You’ve beaten me for once, baby brother, you found your forever and you deserve this win.” 

Good or bad, Albus appreciates all the things James gets him into—if not for James Albus wouldn’t be the happiest man alive. He’s glad his older brother, his best friend, is the guardian who guided him to the path that led him to Scorpius. 

“I am so in love with you,” Albus confesses to Scorpius. 

“I sure hope so, Al,” Scorpius grins. “It’s been five years and we’re about to have a third child. If you didn’t love me by now I’d tell my father to disinherit you.” 

Snorting, Albus leans in to whisper against the soft shell of Scorpius’s small ear. “Didn’t your father ever tell you that I told him I don’t need money to be with you?” Scorpius gives him a doubtful look, so Albus adds, “On God, Scorpius. I told him this knot can’t be bought.” 

Scorpius’s bright laugh, ringing through the cavernous cathedral, is a song Albus never wants to end. In the front pew, seated between both sets of their parents, their sons grin happily in the face of their parents’ joy. 

_ This is love.  _

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of HP Next Gen Fest 2020. The creator will be revealed at the end of November.


End file.
